To Touch Fire
by The.Blue.Owl
Summary: Warren Peace travelled the world for ten years, hunting down the key to saving his life. Returning to Maxville empty-handed, he must now seek out the aid of old friends, a familiar Asian girl, and the one man he never wanted to see again. HIATUS.
1. Ch 1: An Old Acquiantance

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters are products of my imagination. Some characters were not given names in the movie, so for this story, I went ahead and gave them an identity.

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To Touch Fire

Ch.1: An Old Acquaintance 

Finally allowing a tired yawn to escape her for the first time that evening, Joi raised her sore arms over her head and rejoiced when she felt the pressure within her muscles alleviate. Shaking away some of her exhaustion, she began the tiresome task of counting the register, hoping to finish up quickly.

_Oh how I miss my bed… _

"Tired, kid?"

Joi looked up from her task to find her head chef smiling at her, amusement shining in his gentle eyes. His soiled apron was thrown over his arm and the smell of Chinese food was heavily embedded into his simple work clothes and onto his tan skin. Joi wondered how the seemingly good-natured chef had managed to survive her aunt's kitchen for so many years. Granted, she loved the woman to death, but to work alongside her was a living hell. Her shrill screaming and usually barked orders were enough to break through any man's resilience, including her own at times. Thank the stars and heavens that she had retired!

Sighing, she nodded to the middle-aged man, "Afraid so, but I'm almost done. Did everyone leave already, Xing-Xing?" Looking down at her watch, Joi found that it was a quarter to one. She groaned, knowing that when she got home there would be quite a few lovely messages waiting for her from her said aunt.

Joi had moved out of her aunt and uncle's home a good two years ago now and still considered it the best decision of her life, though now she wondered why she didn't just move out of Maxville, since her aunt made it seem that she lived in a whole different continent altogether when, in reality, she only lived a few blocks away from their home. She had managed to find a homely apartment complex that didn't charge her an arm and a leg, and wasn't infested with roaches. A very nice deal indeed, she had thought at the moment.

"Everyone has gone home. It's just you and me, kid." Xing-Xing has a very pleasant smile and ever since Joi first met him, he had nicknamed her 'kid.' It hadn't bothered her, since he had become a part of her makeshift family. What with her loony aunt and sickly uncle, one more addition couldn't hurt. Besides, Joi always loved how he would make funny faces just for her whenever her aunt's back was turned to him.

Joi felt a warm hand squeeze her shoulder, "If you want I could stay with you until you get through. Wouldn't want to leave you alone, and at this hour too, it's not safe."

"No, it's alright. Go on home, I'm almost done," she replied, finishing up with the register. "I have missed messages to get to, or else tomorrow I might just be the front cover of the _Maxville_ _Times_."

As always, Xing-Xing boomed with laughter. "Your dragon of an aunt is just looking out for you, Joi. With no children of her own and your sick uncle, it's no wonder she worries and fusses about you." He winked and let out another chuckle, "Though I love having you as a boss, kid, I sometimes miss hearing those choice cuss words your aunt used to shout at me. They reminded me of my mother back in the old country."

"Aunt Ming Yue certainly is one of a kind," she grinned, "No one can swear and hold their rice wine quite like her."

Laughing, Xing-Xing headed towards the door, "Give my regards to the old demon and to your uncle, kid. And try not to stay out too late, you hear?"

"I'll try." Joi waved him off and watched as he headed out, walking along the sidewalk before disappearing around the corner. Sighing, the young woman closed her dark eyes and breathed. It was tiring, yes, but she loved her job. This restaurant had been her home away from home for many years and when her aunt retired, claiming she felt 'old,' she did not hesitate in agreeing to keep it running in her stead.

Heading to the office, Joi locked up the register bag and their earnings of the day, making a mental note that come Wednesday she had to go to the bank and start preparing the compensation checks for the employees. After locking up the office and shielding the windows with the burgundy-colored curtains, Joi quickly checked the stock to note how much raw fish and vegetables to purchase in the morning.

Grabbing her bag, she turned down the lights and started heading towards the door, glad that the new waitress was willing to clean up the tables in the meantime until a new busboy could be hired. The latest one had quit when her aunt was still running things, claiming that Ming Yue was a malignant spirit with the soul of a ravenous hound. It was rather comical, actually. Her aunt had been rather subdued to the new hand, her usual snarky comments being less frequent.

_"None of them last more than a few weeks or so,"_ her aunt had explained to her in heavy Xiang dialect with a shrug after he had torn off his apron, stomped on it for good measure, and stormed out of _The Paper Lantern_ in haste. _"Lazy, good-for-nothing vagabonds the lot of them. I haven't had a decent busboy in years."_ Joi knew which busboy she meant, but wisely kept quiet.

Feeling her eyelids further descend, Joi quickly locked up, but not before grabbing a fortune cookie from the complimentary basket set by the door for customers. Staring up into the night sky, she tilted her head back as far as it would go to enjoy a simple view of the stars and the half-moon. She began walking soon after, turning her head back down to look ahead of her.

It was a chilly night, but pleasant. The wind toyed with the hem of her pencil skirt and the collar of her button-down blouse. Joi smiled gently, listening to the subtle sounds of the night and feeling the tips of her long hair brush against her back as her ponytail swished with the movement of her hips. Her legs were covered by sheer, black stocking and her comfortable shoes barely made any noise on the grey concrete.

The streets were deserted, alighted by yellow lampposts that stretched on for a few miles. Maxville looked stunning at night, she could not deny it. Especially when there wasn't a single cloud to litter the wide expanse of sky that loomed overhead. It was a beautiful city, but a dangerous one.

Hitching her bag further onto her shoulder, Joi was not afraid. She knew enough self-defense to ensure her safety if need be and there was that little pocket knife she kept at the waist of her pencil skirt. It never hurt to be cautious.

Distracting herself, Joi took out the fortune cookie from her skirt pocket and tore the plastic wrap open. Snapping the cookie in half, she put one end into her mouth and ate it slowly, while removing the strip of paper hiding in the other half. Holding it before her, she squinted her eyes to the darkness.

_Learn Chinese: Banana (Xiang Jiao)_

_Lucky numbers: 13, 2, 7, 21, 3, 20_

Turning the paper over in her hands, Joi read the fortune. She always loved reading them. They were usually some cryptic quote from some anonymous source or a product of her uncle's philosophical genius. She had a feeling that this one was one of her uncle's. He always did love astronomy and stargazing.

"_Stars are born and destroyed in fire; becoming giants, becoming dwarfs, and at times self-consuming darkness. But then they are reborn and given life again."_

Joi smiled sadly, wondering if her uncle will be reborn like his star. He had been sick for many years, recalling that never once had she seen him healthy or any color besides pale-faced. But what he lacked in physical strength and wellbeing, he more than made up for with stark intelligence.

Pocketing the small paper and eating the rest of her cookie, Joi walked a little faster, now longing for the comfort of her bed more than ever. Passing beside an alleyway that held fire-escape ladders to its opposing buildings, she was almost around the corner when she suddenly felt a slow, crawling feeling make its way down her spine. Shivering, not from cold, but from an unexplainable heat rolling down her back and through her arms, reaching to the very tips of her fingers and continuing down her legs to her toes and up again until her whole body was enraptured by it.

Her body felt so sensitive to her, never before had she felt this way. At first she was frightened, thinking that she was in pain, but no. The heat was not harming her, it was not painful but…_soothing_, as if a candle had been ignited within her very core.

_Why am I feeling such things?_ She tried releasing the heat, tried forcing herself to remain rigid, Joi even tried stopping herself from shivering at the intensity of its comfort, but failed miserably. _What is happening?_

It suddenly stopped, the warmth leaving her body, and strangely leaving her cold. She hated to admit it, but she instantly missed the warmth and comfort of the heat. Her body felt empty and frigid without the ghost touch of that candle in her core.

Shaking her head a little, Joi noticed that she had stopped walking and was still standing by the alleyway. Turning her head to the side, she stared at the metal stairs that covered the edge of the building. Lowering her gaze, she was startled to see a slumped figure of what clearly was a person, their back leaning against the brick building to her right. Because of the darkness, she could barely make out the person.

Joi wanted to just dismiss the rogue, attempted to cajole her mind into thinking it was just a homeless person, but no matter what she tried to picture, the person drew her in and she so desperately wanted to go to their side. She was only barely aware that her feet were moving.

She found herself walking cautiously into the alleyway, smelling the foul decay of food and waste littering the place. She continued onward and when she finally stood before the sitting person, she knew that it was a man.

The stranger had his eyes to the ground, so it was impossible for her to see his face. Dark, matted hair that was kept long fell over him, keeping him a secret to her questing eyes. He didn't appear to be injured, just extremely dirty. His clothes were tattered and filthy, not even a good washing machine could get rid of that dirt. His feet were covered in decent boots, worn but not in the extreme condition as the rest of his attire. His hands were invisible beneath the large trench coat he wore.

But what shocked Joi more than this strange man, was the smoke sizzling from his body. Her dark eyes widened at the sight. This man was emitting smoke!

Joi wanted to feel fear, she wanted to feel revulsion for being near such a person, but she couldn't help but feel _pulled_ to him; drawn to this silent and unknown being. She could feel it now, the heat rolling off of him. It was slowly diminishing, and soon the evidence of smoke trailing off his body ceased as well. His once shaky and hoarse breathing dimmed as well and return to normal.

Not knowing, not understanding what in the world she was doing, Joi kneeled before him and reached out to touch him. Before she even skimmed the material of his coat sleeve, a tan hand shot out and grasped her wrist tightly. A surprised gasp escaped her lips.

With her hand still being held prisoner, Joi watched in amazement as the man raised his head, allowing the dark strands of his hair to fall away from his face. From the little light that entered the alleyway, Joi was able to make out the strangers features. Rough hair framed his jaw, making him look that much more dangerous. Unlike the roughness of his appearance, his lips were softer and a shade lighter than his skin. They were full, but grim and when she looked into his eyes, recognition washed over her.

She knew those eyes, she knew this man.

"Don't touch me." The threat was growled between the man's teeth.

Joi felt his hand tighten its grip, and something in her snapped. She somehow snatched her hand away from his bruising grasp and took his face between her palms. Holding him still, she turned his face up completely towards her own and searched the planes of his profile. There was no doubt as to who he was anymore.

He instantly raised his hands to the ones that held his face and savagely tore them away, "I said don't touch me," his voice shook aggressively.

But she knew that voice. She knew those lips, those eyes. Her own eyes watered with such sadness she did not understand. Her bag slid from her shoulder and landed on the ground, but she barely gave it notice.

_What happened to you?_

"Leave."

Joi sucked in a breath, and shakily let it leave through her lips. He was glaring at her, trying to scare her off. She had never been looked at like that before, especially not by him.

Licking her lips, she shook her head. She met his stare and whispered, "No."

He was frustrated, and tired. "Go away," he tried to scare the woman away once more, wondering why she was being so defiant. Why didn't she run away from him? Why was she even out at this hour of the night? He had been surprised when she had taken his face into her shaky palms, not having felt another's touch in so long.

What surprised him was her lack of concern for her own safety. He could have been a murderer or rapist and here she was still kneeling before him, even though he had given her enough warning to leave him.

She seemed so young, so innocent. Her Asiatic features dominated her delicate face. Her pale and unblemished skin, her small nose, and high cheekbones that would have seemed harsh on her soft face, but somehow suited her wise visage, even with her apparent youth. She had small peach-colored lips and dark eyes that burned him to look at.

He watched her with narrowed eyes as she seemed to second-guess her bravery, looking away from him, but just as quickly raising her eyes to his. He was surprised to see her eyes shining with tears. Why?

"You don't remember me?" she asked quietly, sadness evident in her gentle voice. Before he could question her, the girl sighed and seemed to make up her mind about something. "Of course you don't remember me, I was only twelve the last time I saw you." She smiled sadly and, unafraid, moved closer to him.

He forced his back further into the rough wall, grunting from the discomfort. He watched her warily, as she neared him. "Listen girl, I already warned you to leave me-"

He stopped abruptly when he heard her giggling gently into her hands. She found him amusing now? He had thought that the..._episode_ from earlier would have been strong enough to give him enough time to strengthen before another would course through him, but he could feel the subtle fire building up, becoming stronger and stronger. His anger fueling it and he knew he had to relax. He _had_ to control it.

He hadn't traveled around the globe to fail now.

He watched her lips lift into another smile, though this one wasn't as heart- wrenching as the last. "You know," she said softly, with a trace of humor in her voice, "I never did understand why you always had to call me _girl_ all the time. I did, and still do, have a name, Warren."

_Warren_…

She knew him. Who was she?

Joi bit her bottom lip, her eyes scanning his face as he concentrated on something. _He hasn't changed_, was her forethought. He was older, but so was she. He seemed more cautious and solitary, then how he had been ten years ago. But she knew that it had to have been required through the years he spent out of Maxville. Other than that though, he still _looked_ like the same boy who had worked at her aunt's restaurant throughout his high school years.

The same boy she had befriended, despite his somewhat callous manner. She had never once tired of letting him know this fact, he had been her friend, whether he had asked for the friendship or not.

Joi sighed, resting her backside against her kneeling legs. She wanted to ask him so many things, wanted and needed to know what had happened, but she knew he was exhausted and she hadn't slept properly in three days. Putting aside her curiosity for now, she turned to him and reached out to grasp his coat sleeve.

"Come on then," she sighed, tugging on the sleeve before letting it go and standing, bending over to pick up her bag from the ground. When he didn't immediately follow her lead, she placed a hand to her hip, "Well?"

"Well what?" he all but roared, though in a controlled voice.

Shaking her head, Joi reached down and grasped his hand. A small shiver raced down her spine, but she ignored it. She started pulling him up and he eventually caught the idea and stood from the ground, standing beside her.

She hadn't realized how tall he had gotten.

She felt the blood pumping through her quicken, along with her heartbeat. When he had worked at the _Paper Lantern_ as a busboy, she had been only a few inches shorter than him. But now, Joi had to crane her head a little far up then before.

She realized that she was still holding his hand, feeling a warm radiate from it that was familiar somehow. She blushed from embarrassment and dropped his hand, turning as she did towards the way she had come through. Before she actually started walking towards the alleyway's entrance, Warren had a hold of her arm, turning her around to face him.

He seemed mildly upset and she just couldn't help but find his attitude amusing. He always did have quite a temper. "Just come with me, Warren. Please." Placing a friendly hand over the one holding her elbow, she squeezed his fingertips. "Trust me."

Where did he know this girl?

"My apartment isn't very far. I'm sure you'd enjoy sleeping in an actual bed tonight," Joi said kindly, hoping to get him to cooperate. _Tomorrow Aunt Ming Yue is going to kill me…_

He didn't reply, but allowed her to guide him. His exhaustion from earlier taking its toll on his little strength, but at least the fire seemed to be subdued for the moment.

Joi felt the weight of him against her side and feared that he would pass out before even reaching her floor! Slinging his arm over her shoulders, she gripped his waist and allowed him to rest against her.

He kept pace with her easily enough, and together they walked the few blocks that eventually lead them before her apartment complex. They climbed the staircase silently, their hips brushing together at their close proximity. Joi allowed him to lean on her further, knowing that he was never going to admit to her how tired he really was.

She knew better.

He was going at an almost snail-like pace, taking one step at a time, lifting one leg and then the other. His body tense and shaking beside her, she could feel the tremors raking his body under her fingertips. Oh yes, Joi knew just how exhausted he truly was, but wisely kept her observations to herself. He needed rest, now, and that desire was what kept her moving.

When she saw the little black 4 next to the staircase, Joi was beyond relieved. Warren was heavy against her and she had half expected a stumble that would have ultimately brought about their undoing. Luckily, her hand had never left the banister. She tugged him with her a few steps away, passing by a few doors that opened to her neighbors apartments.

Once standing before her own paint-chipped door, Joi had to momentarily let go of the rouge's waist to reach for her keys. She felt his body collapse against her own and instantly felt the heat of him sinking into her flesh, even through the layers of her blouse. He smelled strangely of burnt wood and she wondered why that was, the image of his body releasing smoke as he sat in the alleyway questioning her reasoning.

She quickly opened the door to her small, one bedroom apartment and led them both to her room. He was asleep before he was on the bed and he didn't move as she removed his boots and trench coat, draping the covers over him. Joi watched his breathing even out, glad that he would be resting tonight. Before she realized what she was doing, Joi felt her fingers gently run through his soiled hair. The strands were longer than she remembered, but they were soft to her touch.

Retracting her hand, Joi spared him one last glance, amazed at how unguarded he was once asleep. _He needed this so much_, she wondered biting her lower lip. When was the last time he slept on a bed? She was surprised that he had willingly followed her at all, expecting more fight out of him.

Joi closed her apartment door and bolted the lock. Removing her own shoes, her eyes fell onto her answering machine, and true to its purpose, the little red light was blinking angrily at her.

"Tomorrow," she promised and after taking a short shower and dressing into comfortable sleep wear, Joi fixed up her own bed on the couch and slept.

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Author's Note: Well, here you have it. The first chapter for my Sky High story. I hoped you enjoyed it and all feedback and/or questions are welcomed. Hope you keep reading! The story is set ten years in the future to the movie.


	2. Ch 2: Remembering A Friend

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment, not for distribution.

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To Touch Fire

Ch.2: Remembering a Friend

Joi's spare comforter was ripped from her sleeping form, disrupting the warm cocoon she had enveloped herself in. Blinking her eyes open slowly, Joi groaned as the sunlight coming from her window momentarily blinded her sight. Shutting her eyes closed, the young woman brought her hand up to further shield her eyes from the treacherous sun. She heard a cry of indignation come from somewhere in her apartment and she wondered for a moment if her still sluggish mind was making her hear things.

Deciding to ignore the sound, she mumbled for her mind to shut up and lazily trailed her hand out to search for her comforter, without opening her eyes. When her hand came up empty handed, she sighed and brought her knees up to her chest, slinging an arm around herself to maintain some form of heat. She was just nearing unconsciousness when she felt a sharp slap to her rear end and immediately came alert.

Her hurried movements caused her to fall out of the small couch and, for the second time that morning, she felt a sting hurt her bottom. Her back landed on the cold, tiled floor as well, leaving her winded. A small squeak of surprise left her lips and she finally opened her eyes only to close them again with a groan.

_I should have known she wouldn't wait for my call_, Joi sighed to herself. "Auntie, what are you doing here? Wait…how did you even get in? I only have one key to my apartment," she asked confused. "Please don't tell me you broke into my apartment or threatened my land lord to let you in!"

Ming Yue huffed angrily, "I wait for call, no call," she said in broken English. "I made spare key long time ago, good thing too."

Joi stood from the floor and stood before her shorter aunt, "Auntie, you can't just go around making copies of people's keys! That's illegal and an invasion of privacy!"

Her aunt merely squared her shoulders and placed a hand to her hip, _"You are my niece. I have every right to have access to your home! You never gave me a key, so I sent for one to be made,"_ she replied in her native tongue.

"Auntie, this is _my_ apartment. You can't just come in here whenever you like."

The older woman narrowed her eyes shrewdly, _"What are you hiding from me, my niece?"_

Joi felt herself blush and wished she hadn't, "I am hiding nothing from you, aunt," she lied, though she knew her aunt would see right through it.

She was right. _"Don't lie to me, Joi Li Feng. What are you keeping from me! I am your aunt, your family!"_

Joi looked fearfully towards her room door, hoping that her aunt's yelling hadn't woken him. She wanted the rogue to rest as much as possible, knowing that it was what he needed, but her aunt wasn't making it any easier with her goal centered on waking up the whole complex with her shrill voice.

She turned her eyes back to her aunt, putting a finger to her lips and shushing her. _"Auntie, stop yelling. You are going to wake up half the block,"_ she whispered hurriedly in her own Cantonese, the dialect mainly spoken by her uncle.

Ming Yue stayed silent for a moment, cynically assessing her young niece. When she spoke again, it was in a more controlled, analytical voice. "_You didn't call yesterday after closing the restaurant. You always call after closing. I come here at six o'clock in the morning-"_

"You wake me at six o'clock!"

"_Don't interrupt. Now, I come here, only to find you sleeping on your couch, instead of in your bedroom. Who is in your bedroom, Joi Li? Is it a man? Are you harboring men into your bed now?"_ Ming Yue's short, dark hair seemed to bounce with her accusation.

Joi sighed, "It's not what you are thinking, auntie-"

"_So it is a man!"_ Before Joi could predict her movements, Ming Yue stalked towards her bedroom door and opened it. Looking inside, she scanned the room, finding the silhouette of what clearly was a man, sleeping on the left side of her niece's bed. Joi was by her side when she closed the door again. "Did you at least use protection?" she asked in her broken English, foregoing her Xiang dialect.

Joi reeled back, aghast at what her aunt suggested, "No, I didn't-"

"Oh my dear girl, have I taught you nothing? If you are going to have sexual relations, then you must be prepared! Did he pull out at least? Are you taking contraceptives?" Her aunt rattled on, not allowing her niece to explain herself.

The young woman turned dark red, "What? No, you misunderstood-"

Ming Yue sucked her teeth, shaking her head, _"Not to worry, not to worry. I have remedies for that. My mother was taught by her mother, and her mother before her, how to make herbal tea that will cause an emergency miscarriage. After all, in the old country, we were but poor farm people. Our women had to work just like men and it wasn't wise to have so many children."_ She petted her niece's cheek, _"I'll have to go get some special roots and spices. I'll make you a good, strong cup once I get back."_

"Auntie, I don't need your tea, honestly. Let me explain-"

"You don't need tea? You want end up with child?" Ming Yue's brown eyes widened. "Joi, you in America. You not need to have child so young and I not old enough to be a gran-aunt!"

Joi wanted to pull at her hair from the roots and cry out in frustration. Why was her aunt not allowing her to explain herself!

"Did you get boy tested before sleeping with him?"

Alright she had heard enough! "I did not sleep with that man! I did not participate in any sexual activities last night with him. I am not having babies with him! I am not drinking an anti- contraceptive tea that is unnecessary! And if you would have allowed me to get my two-cents in, I would have explained this," Joi whispered in frustration. Sighing, she walked over to the couch she had slept in last night and threw herself on it, allowing her head to loll back.

She felt the beginnings of a headache and groaned. The couch sank beside her by an added weight. She felt thin fingers toying with her long hair and when she looked over to her side, she found her aunt watching her carefully.

Ming Yue's eyes softened apologetically, as she took her niece's hand in hers. _"You know, your uncle always said I was as stubborn as an ox and just as quick to assume."_

Joi smiled and nodded, "But he adores his wife, and I adore my aunt."

Ming Yue squeezed her niece's hand before letting it go, "I will listen to you, as your uncle trained me to."

Joi snorted, "How considerate of you." She had said it in jest and relayed this to her aunt, so as not to offend her.

Her aunt took no offense and stood to prepare them some tea. "_Now, explain to this old woman why her past busboy is sleeping on her niece's bed after having disappeared for almost ten years."_

Joi furrowed her eyebrows, "How did you-"

Ming Yue tapped a finger to her temple, "I never forget faces."

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Warren could feel the fire growing even as he slept.

Behind his closed eyelids, as if seeing through his mind, he could see it. For now it was small and insignificant, but it was growing. It was feeding off his energy little by little, like a parasite. The small flame was taking enough to continue its progress and leaving behind enough to ensure the survival of its host. And what's worst, he had no power over it, no way to stop it. It would just continue to consume him from the inside until he could no longer take it.

_I still have time_.

When he ventured to open his eyes, the pyrokinetic didn't know what to make of his surroundings. He was still dressed in his filthy clothes, only missing his trench coat and leather boots, but he soon found that his coat had been draped neatly over a reclining chair in the corner of the room and his boots were beside his side of the bed.

The room was of an average size, not as large as most master bedrooms, but it still had a considerable amount of space. The walls had been painted an indigo blue and he noticed that much of the room was decorated with similar cool colors. The sheets he had slept on were white cotton, basic, but comfortable and the comforter was cotton as well, though striped.

A vanity dresser was placed on the other side of the room, seeming to have been crafted from mahogany wood. On the vanity's surface there was a Buddha figurine, sitting in absolute meditation with white candles placed on either side of it. A large fan with painted cranes was decorating the wall. Other little knickknacks littered the room, making it quite a peaceful place to rest and from the looks of the yoga matt on the floor, a peaceful place to meditate.

Where was he?

He could smell the distinctly feminine scent in the room and on the sheets. It was a gentle smell, not at all overpowering, and he found himself liking it. And he also smelt the burning scent that lingered on his skin, the smell of fire.

Sitting up slowly, Warren felt the tense, strained muscles of his back protest to his movements. His bones also groaned, but he felt more refreshed after having slept on a soft surface. To think, he would have slept on the ground again after having done so for so many nights, but instead had been brought here to rest.

He was not as tired, but he was hungry. And thirsty. Scratching his chin, he duly noted that a shave wouldn't be a bad idea either, and a shower. Just thinking about actually having hot water and using soap was too much for him, since he had to make do without it for so long.

His mind began running through last night's events and lingered on the woman who had helped him. She claimed to have known him some time ago, but he still couldn't place a name on her. He remembered now that she had asked him to follow her home, to her apartment, promising him a place to rest for the night.

She had been so kind to him, so gentle in her manner that he had feared her to be an illusion, having forgotten what good people were like. He felt like a brute. She had been trying to help him and he merely growled at her to leave him be.

Before he could further chastise himself, Warren heard the doorknob being turned, followed by the door being opened. He turned his eyes to watch the Asian woman from last night enter the room quietly and head over to the reclining chair, her eyes never traveling to the bed where he sat watching her.

She placed a small mound of what seemed to be clothes on the chair and took his trench coat into her hands, shaking her head with a soft sigh leaving her lips. Warren knew she was frowning, though her back was facing him.

The young woman seemed to have showered recently since her curtain of black hair was still slightly damp. It fell past her shoulders, the tips skimming her narrow waist. She was dressed casually in a black, v-neck shirt and faded jeans and he found his eyes roaming her backside curiously.

Warren would guess her height to be around 5'8. Her legs were clearly her dominant feature for they were whimsical in their length and her hips were delicate and modest, instead of overly curved and sexual. His eyes strayed to her firm rear, thinking that it complimented her just fine. The pyro found her soft beauty refreshing and pleasant to look at.

The young woman turned around, her hands holding the dirty trench coat, which she had folded. Her eyes strayed to her bed, only to freeze when they caught him looking at her. Warren watched as she colored a little, before overcoming her embarrassment and walking towards him.

She took a seat before him on the bed and smiled brightly, her whole face becoming alive with a simple turn of the lips, "I was wondering when you were going to wake up. Are you hungry?" She asked hospitably.

Feeling his dry throat, he coughed to clear it. "What time is it?"

"Just about three in the afternoon, I didn't want to wake you earlier because you looked liked you needed the sleep." She pointed to the clothes that she had brought with her earlier and set on the chair, "My aunt brought you some of my uncle's old clothes for you to change into. I hope it fits well enough. I can bring you a towel too if you would like to shower."

Warren watched her, but did not answer. Why was she being so gracious? He couldn't understand it. It both aggravated and fascinated him how easily she smiled and talked to him.

She wasn't deterred by his silence. "My aunt passed by this morning and found you here, but I explained to her what happened. She wanted to stay and talk to you when you woke up, but I asked her to watch the restaurant today." She leaned in closer to him and he was amazed that he didn't automatically lean away from her. The girl was already making him more comfortable around her.

She smirked conspiratorially at him, "Actually, I just wanted to save you the trauma of having to deal with her after waking up. She can be quite frightful and you're out of practice with how to handle her."

_Out of practice?_

"Just who are you, girl?" he asked roughly, not knowing how to communicate with her in any other matter. "I have never met your aunt, so why would she want to see me?"

"You still haven't figured it out yet, huh? Well I can't really blame you, it has been almost ten years and I have grown out of my lanky teen stage," she said, laughing at his stern face. "But you haven't changed at all, Warren. A little dirtier, yes, but still as sour and cranky as ever," she grinned widely in amusement, her eyes shining with mirth.

He growled deep within his throat at the insult, but she didn't back away from him. "Just answer me, girl."

She sighed heavily, "I was hoping you would remember on your own. I guess I should tell you and stop being so cruel," her eyes flashed mischievously and he knew she wasn't going to tell him.

Warren began panicking when the young woman placed her arms on the bed before her and used this new position to support her weight as she leaned in closer to him. This time he leaned away, "What are you doing?" he basically snarled at her.

She paused for a moment to look into his face, seeing the confusion and uncertainty he felt regarding her actions. But she continued advancing on him until Warren could feel her hot breath touching his lips. "Stop…" he managed to whisper, this time conveying the confusion and uncertainty he felt in his voice.

Innocently, almost child-like, she touched her nose to his and nuzzled it. She instantly pulled back afterwards and smiled gently, while watching him to see his reaction.

There was something…familiar to that action. He stared at her, took the time to really look at her. She had known him the moment she looked at him. She had known he wasn't dangerous, known that he wouldn't hurt her, even though he had threatened her.

Though he tried his hardest to bury his past, he couldn't stop his mind from diving into those repressed memories of when he had been a mere student at Sky High. His fellow student body and educators, the small group of people he had come to regard as friends, though he had abandoned them all without a second glance or warning. He thought of his mother and his very soul ached with the thought of having hurt her. And then rage filled him to his very core when he thought of his father, the man who had ruined his family.

He could feel the fire feeding off his vast emotions as he delved further into his mind, but he couldn't stop it.

His thoughts suddenly focused on the _Paper Lantern_, how he had worked there throughout his high school years as a busboy. How he got along well enough with the cooks and waitresses. How his employer, Lady Ming Yue, would order him around in her Xiang Chinese ( sometimes in Cantonese depending on her mood) to work harder, testing his will against her biting personality.

He suddenly found himself remembering an old memory. It had been a few months before his graduation and at the time he was eighteen. It was a Saturday morning and the restaurant had yet to open, but he had been mopping the floors quietly, ignoring the loud voices of the kitchen workers as they prepared their stations and Ming Yue's absence was heavenly for the moment.

To early had he spoken because his employer soon appeared, and tagging along behind her was her twelve-year-old niece, Joi Li, though everyone called her Joi.

Ming Yue cursed at him to hurry with the cleaning or she would never be opening her restaurant for the day. He merely grunted his understanding and continued what he had been doing. She later disappeared into her office and he had been left alone.

"Don't mind her; she hasn't had her tea yet."

Warren had looked up from the floor to survey Ming Yue's niece, "Beat it, girl."

She huffed, sticking her tongue out at him, "I guess you skipped your caffeine this morning too." He remembered how she had smiled wickedly at him and waltzed right up to his side. Oh he had known exactly what was racing through her mind…

"Joi…don't try it," he warned the twelve-year-old, turning his head to watch her like a hawk.

She had merely looked up innocently, "Try what, Warren?"

"Nice try, you know what. You do it every time you see me."

"I just want to say hello…"

"You said it, now leave me alone. I still have to finish here," he had said, motioning to the rest of the floor that needed cleaning.

She had pouted prettily, but had stayed by his side as he ignored her and continued cleaning the floors. Too soon, however, he felt small hands pulling down at his shirt sleeve and he had boiled in frustration, but attempted to ignore it.

The girl was persistent and continued tugging on his sleeve, until he turned to her and all but roared, "What, girl, what?"

He remembered how she had stood on the balls of her feet to be more eyelevel to him, and bringing her nose to touch his nose, she had rubbed it side-to-side. Tearing away from him, she had ran from his side, giggling as he yelled at her to stop being so childish.

As she disappeared from his sight and entered the kitchen, he remembered shaking his head, but smirking at her ridiculous custom of greeting him with an Eskimo kiss. Why did his mother have to go and tell the girl that she was a descendant of Frenchmen and Native American's and that she had been originally born in Alaska? Now the girl would greet him with an Eskimo kiss every time she saw him because he was technically an "Eskimo." And she found it quite humorous to see him angry like a cat being rubbed the wrong way.

Once Warren was freed from his mind, he felt the fire growing further. He blinked back a few times and when he focused on the young woman's face before him, he found her smiling in victory. She knew he recognized her.

"_I just want to say hello…"_

"Joi…" She had grown up quite a bit. She was only slightly taller, since she had been tall when she was a teen. Her dark mane was still long and her face still remained the same, except for some subtle changes marking her maturity. Her frame had filled out, becoming more womanly, instead of child-like.

Joi giggled into her hand and smiled brightly at her old friend, "Took you long enough, I was starting to worry about you."

She stood from the bed and went over to the clothes her aunt had brought for Warren to use in the meantime. Handing them to him, she tugged on his arm so that he would stand. When he did, she walked him outside the bedroom and pulled him along into the bathroom. Taking the clothes from his arms, she placed them on the counter by the sink and, bending over, searched through the cupboards under the sink for something. She came up with a pink, two-blade razor in hand and laughed when he stared at it like she were some crazed psychopath.

Putting the razor down next to his clothes, Joi turned to him, crossed her arms over her chest and rested her backside against the bathroom counter. "Now, as glad as I am that you remember me, Warren, you need a bath. A good one," she emphasized. "I expect you to use these clean clothes my uncle generously gave you and the razor if you want to shave. Yes its pink, well I am a girl and I have a shortage of male razors lying around," she shrugged.

"The towels are in the closet there, pick whichever one you prefer. You may use whatever you find in my shower: shampoo, soap, and if you like the stuff, bubble bath liquid," she said mischievously in her playful manner. "And if you dare use the evil pink razor, just use some soap and conditioner as shaving cream, and before you ask, yes it actually works."

Joi hoisted herself off the counter and paused when she was closing the bathroom door, "Once you're done in here, you'll have something ready to eat waiting. Think of it as a reward if you go through with using the razor." Her teasing laughter sang through the apartment in an uplifting mood. The young woman had knowingly resolved any discomfort or awkwardness from arising between the two of them.

Warren looked at the now closed door and swore the girl was a tad bit strange.

~/\\~

Author's Note: Well, Here's ch.2! I hope you enjoyed it. One thing, I meant in the last chapter is that this story takes place ten years after Warren graduates from Sky High. Meaning, he was 18 years old when he left Maxville, making him now 28.

I know that I am leaving things in the dark, but I do so on purpose. The story has to have a little mystery to it too. Keep reading!


	3. Ch 3: A Strange Reunion

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.3: A Strange Reunion

The pyrokinetic was given his privacy to freshen up without being disturbed. He stood silently in the pale, yellow bathroom for a moment, listening to the banging of metal pans being moved around and guessed that Joi was determined when it came to being a wonderful hostess. She was going out of her way to making him feel as comfortable as possible, even making him food, and this treatment bothered Warren to no end. He wasn't used to _this_. He wasn't used to being treated with kindness and his mind warred with itself over how to approach the unexpected situation he had fallen under.

He didn't want to owe anyone anything. He had survived thus far without anyone's help. He didn't need someone to look after him now as if he were a child! As if he had not had enough experience to know how to care for himself, staying alive wasn't new to him after all.

Grunting with mild frustration, Warren walked over to the small closet door in the bathroom and took a large, white towel from the neat pile inside. Hanging it on the towel rack by the shower, he pushed the plastic shower curtain aside to toy with the temperature knobs. Nodding to himself when the water that sprayed down from the head was warm enough, he peeled away each ruined article of clothing he wore and tossed it on the cold, tiled floor.

Looking down at his toes, he wiggled them for a moment before looking into the large mirror before him. Standing there in an unfamiliar setting, naked to his own scrutiny, Warren traced the numerous scars that trailed his body with his eyes. His skin, marred because of his lack of control over his own element, looked abused and raw under the harsh florescent lighting.

And not only was his skin damaged, he looked like a street urchin with his poor hygiene. His hair touched a little past his shoulders now and the sheer mess of it would send any barber or beautician to prematurely grey. His unkempt beard added to the whole vagabond effect and he couldn't even remember when the last time his teeth experienced a proper cleaning was.

As if reading his mind, Joi's pleasant-sounding voice tore his eyes away from further criticism, "I forgot to give you a toothbrush! Do you want me to get it for you?" She sounded close to the door and Warren instantly went to go bolt it, but was startled to find no lock on the knob.

"Warren, you alright in there?"

_Just peachy._ "I'll get it myself," he replied, his hand holding the door down just in case she decided to open it to double check on him.

She didn't though and responded him from behind the door, "I have some free sample toothbrushes from my dentist under the sink. Go ahead and grab one and if you need something else, feel free to shout." He heard her soft footsteps as she walked away from the door and he relaxed his tense stance. Why would he assume she would open the door anyway? She's shown enough courtesy to not hound him with questions and demand answers from him, but he wasn't fooled by her nonchalance. She wanted to ask questions, she wanted to hear his answers, but she hasn't and instead is skirting around them, displeasing her own curious mind to ensure his comfort first and foremost.

Deciding to continue as things were going, Warren stalked over to the tub and stepped into the steamy water. Closing his eyes, he allowed the blissful water to wash over him for a while before lathering his hands in scented soap and washing up. He washed out his hair thoroughly, running his fingers through the tangles.

For someone who had grieved the loss of two parents in their short life, Joi was surprisingly void of bitterness and resentment. The shyness of her manners, her mild embarrassment at times, and yet with such ease, she could be jovial and easy-going. Her boldness and languid smiles that overpowered her personality were so open, welcoming that it stirred something within him he could not explain.

He wondered how she did it. How she could repress the darkness of her past and live solely for the present. How she could find joy in almost anything and be so damn optimistic all the time, even as a kid. He knew that she had always adored her small family consisting of her aunt, her reclusive uncle he had yet to meet, and the local staff at the _Paper Lantern_.

She was too innocent for her own damn good.

When he was fully satisfied with his cleanliness, he dried off and stepped out of the tub, allowing his feet to dry on the rug placed on the floor. Wiping the fogged mirror with a hand, Warren took the pink razor in hand and cringed.

Hell if he wanted to use that razor, but another glance at the mirror strengthened his resolve. He lathered his face with soap and was going to dismiss Joi's suggestion of using conditioner as well, but a cry from outside the door stopped his hand from bringing the razor to his throat, "Don't forget to use soap and _conditioner_, Warren. Your face is going to itch and burn for a week if you don't!"

How the heck did she do that? Warren was beginning to suspect spy cameras or ESP having something to do with it, but he deducted that she merely had been reminding him the conditioner after hearing the shower turning off. Sighing, the pyrokinetic reached into the shower and took a small amount of conditioner into his hands and massaged it into his face, mixing it with the soap, before lifting the razor once again and commencing to groom.

~/\\~

Joi hummed an old lullaby as she cooked in her small, but orderly kitchen. She liked the fact that her kitchen had an open counter instead of being closed off from the living/dining room. She enjoyed cooking for herself and for her family, it had become a sort of hobby for her, but when Xing-Xing thought it would be interesting to have her work as a cook at the _Paper Lantern_, she had gracefully refused. She was a decent cook, not a taught chef.

Besides, having graduated only a month ago from Maxville's community college with a Bachelor in her studied major, business, she had wanted to quickly prove her worth in her area of expertise. So far the restaurant hadn't crashed and burned to the ground, a good start. However, Joi wanted to prove herself. She wanted to make her aunt's small Chinese restaurant something truly spectacular.

A place that all of Maxville would recognize as an accomplished and entertaining environment for kicking back and relaxing, while getting a taste of great Oriental food at the same time.

At the moment, it was her dream. She loved the _Paper Lantern_. She loved the atmosphere and the workers and she wanted her family's legacy to continue to be theirs, to remain a part of them, and to continue growing as they did.

Joi had finished preparing their meal and was putting away the washed dishes when she heard the bathroom door open. Finishing up and taking off her apron and hanging it on the hook by the fridge, she turned her head towards Warren's direction when he took a seat on the counter. He was rubbing a towel ferociously through his hair, making sure to dry it as best he could.

Opening one of her kitchen cabinets, Joi got out two tall glasses for their drinks. "Did the clothes fit alright?" she asked, opening the freezer and dropping a handful of ice in each glass.

"The sweats are a little short, but they fit fine. The shirt too," he grunted after having finished towel drying his hair. He looked down at the plate in front of him and his mouth watered. Joi had cooked a quick, simple meal of vegetables and shrimp with plain, white rice. A small bowel of warm soup was beside the larger meal.

Warren couldn't remember the last time he had such a large amount of food before him. The tantalizing scent was tightening his stomach painfully, reminding him again how long ago he had gone without a proper meal.

"It was the only clothes my aunt could find that had any chance of fitting you. My uncle has been losing some more weight recently and he is shorter than you," she replied gently. "I am glad that they fit though, the clothes you came in are going to have to go. I'm afraid nothing is going to save them from the dumpster. Now, what would you like to drink?"

"Water."

Opening the fridge, Joi poured water in each glass from a pitcher and walked over to the counter, reaching out and placing the water beside Warren. She did not raise her eyes to assess him and was withdrawing her hand back when a much larger one grasped her wrist, her palm touching the warm flesh of his own arm. Looking down at the tan digits holding her hand in place, though not painfully, Joi slowly brought her gaze up and stared straight into guarded, dark eyes.

"Joi, we need to talk."

Joi took in a sharp breath as warm heat attacked her senses and coursed through her very blood. It was milder than the fire that had enraptured her last night, forcing all her nerves to feel it, making her shiver from its intensity. This fire was slow, caressing as it spread down her body, reaching her toes, it brought comfort and nurture. Not at all like the smoldering heat from last night, but it was similar.

Joi studied the man before her unabashed. The towel he had been using to dry his hair was draped across his broad shoulders and he was leaning forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter. The white shirt her aunt had brought him fit his torso comfortably, exposing his long arms. His dark hair curled as it touched his shoulders and Joi found herself craving to reach out and run her fingers through those wet strands. Joi noticed that he had shaved his jaw line and now smooth, brown skin ran the expanse of it. His full lips were frowning slightly and those guarded eyes were watching her, unnerving her previous bravado.

Lowering her eyes, Joi looked at his hand still holding hers and when her eyes started traveling up his arm, she noticed the healed scars that marred his smooth flesh. Without thinking, she lifted her other hand and ran her fingers down the span of his arm, feeling as she did the different textures of both his jagged and unharmed skin.

The warmth was still inside her and it was not frightening, it could never be that to her. It was a dominant, yet serene essence that at the moment was relaxing her body in such a way, lulling her to accept it and she did, though she did not understand why.

When she met his eyes again, she was stunned at their smoldering heat. It was too much for her. She wanted, no,_ needed_ him in such a way she never thought possible. Never had she felt this way about any other person. Just the thought alone of not being near him caused her to ache and seek his warmth. What was wrong with her? Warren Peace had never had such an effect on her before, so why now? Why was she so drawn to him?

Joi retreated inside herself to think. The man before her was a cherished friend and he needed her help. She knew he had suffered throughout the ten years he had been gone, though he had yet to open up to her about it and she doubted he would. That's why she had taken the initiative to contact someone who _would_ get through to him. Joi traced the scars on his arm quietly. _Oh, Warren, what happened to you?_

Warren had watched her silently as her almond-shaped eyes studied him, and when she had touched him, he seriously thought he was going to lose control of the ever spreading fire within him. Her tantalizing fingers glided along his feverish skin, following the contours in fascination and sadness with those bewitching pale fingers. The fire was raging inside him, wanting to be free, wanting to lick at his arms again, but his control was strong enough and he managed to rip his arm away from her touch, letting go of her thin wrist.

Clearing his throat, the pyrokinetic voided his mind and his senses, feeling the young woman having ignited something unexplainable in him and he feared it was dangerous.

"I don't want your pity, Joi."

The usual fun-loving look in her gaze hardened. "I would never pity you, Warren. You are my friend." Her eyes turned fearful and her lower lip quivered, "Unless…you don't consider yourself my friend."

The terrified expression that had captured her face had twisted its softness into a grimace. Warren found himself stumbling to reassure her, "N-No, I didn't mean, I-I mean…" he cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his wet hair in aggravation. _Great, just great, Warren, go ahead and hurt the girl's feelings_, he reprimanded himself harshly.

At hearing bell-like laughter assaulting his hearing, Warren looked up sharply and narrowed his eyes when he saw Joi laughing into her hand. He growled disapprovingly at the young woman, her mindless laughter finally coming to an end. A radiant smile warmed her appearance, but he remained irritable.

Joi just couldn't help but tease the easily provoked and foul- tempered man, "You, Warren Peace, should know better than to fall for my poor acting. Eat." She motioned with her hands to his food and reached for her own bowl of soup, putting the lip of the bowl to her mouth to take a deep drink. Grabbing two chopsticks, Joi then proceeded to make short work of the noodles and vegetables left. She lazed casually against the counter, eating the rest of her meal delicately.

After a minute or two, Joi noticed from the corner of her eyes Warren quietly eating his own food, albeit with a fierce hunger driving him. They each remained silent, enjoying their light meal peacefully.

Joi was just finishing up when Warren broke the silence, "I need to leave."

Raising a brow, the young woman turned to face him, giving him her undivided attention. She sighed heavily, "I can't let you do that."

Now it was his turn to raise a brow. "And why the hell not?"

Joi smiled at his gruff response. "It's a surprise."

Snarling from within his throat, Warren quickly stood from the stool he had been sitting on and walked into the kitchen, "Damn it, Joi, this isn't a game! I can't stay here," he spoke harshly, trying to intimidate her with his anger.

Joi barely flinched and shook her head, "You _can_ stay. No one is forcing you to leave, Warren. You _are_ welcome here."

Her dark hair shone like a crow's feather under the artificial lighting, her creamy skin contrasting severely against it. Warren couldn't help but once again notice her subtle beauty. Her smile, exposing her small, white teeth, was expressive and forthcoming. He wondered if she could even fake a smile. He doubted it. She was too light-hearted to lie about anything.

Warren knew that talking to her was pointless. She would insist on him staying, her nature calling out for her to help him. The slip of a woman could be stubborn when the occasion deemed it necessary, and he could see it now. She was determined for him to remain where he was.

But he was determined too.

_It's too late. I'm too dangerous to help now_. The pyrokinetic turned away abruptly from the young woman and headed to the only exit in the room, the front door.

"Warren, wait-"

He heard her angelic voice calling out to him, but he ignored it and briskly walked the short length to the front door. Unlocking it and pulling it open, Warren was about to storm outside and make a run for it, but a sudden force collided against his body and would have knocked him off his feet if it wasn't for his quick reflexes.

In a second, he felt himself being locked in a vice-like embrace and the scent of earth and mild apple cinnamon consumed his scenes. The arms wrapped around him gave his middle another tight squeeze before becoming slack and withdrawing completely.

"Honey, give the man some space!" A firm hand landed on Warren's shoulder heavily, causing his very bones to shake from the unexpected force.

"I haven't seen him in over ten years, Will! I think my reaction was appropriate for the situation, besides you're the one who rammed into him earlier!"

"Now, sweetheart, calm down," the weight holding down on Warren's shoulder shifted and fell away, "you know what Ethan said about becoming stressed, it might harm the baby."

Irate, and a little confused, Warren focused on the man and woman that were the cause of his failed escape.

The man was lightly tanned by the sun, his tawny hair cut short and messy in a modern hairstyle. He stood almost eye level to Warren, missing his height by a few inches. Square, metallic glasses framed his face and friendly brown eyes greeted him from behind them. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, though still lanky in frame, though his hand might have more to say over his strength. He wore comfortable jeans and a button-down blue shirt, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. Warren watched as the man snaked his arm around the woman's waist, bending down to kiss her temple lovingly.

The woman reached just about her partner's shoulder in height, her vibrant red hair a chin-length bob. Her rosy lips curved up in a smile, shining sapphire eyes filled with love and kindness would look at him, soften to look up at the man beside her, and again focus on him. She wore a long, green skirt beaded and decorated in a Bohemian style and an airy, white top. The woman was sprite-like with her large eyes and oval-shaped face and her hand was absentmindedly rubbing at her swelling womb. She was obviously pregnant, possibly only a few weeks away from delivering.

The couple turned to regard the young Asian woman who had been silently standing there the whole time, watching the scene with a pleasant smile. The red-haired woman left her partner's side to make her way over to her. The two women embraced each other instantly in friendship.

"Thank you for coming, Layla, Will," Joi said, as they drew apart from their embrace. "Warren, you remember Will Stronghold and Layla Williams, though now-a-days she's going by Layla Stronghold."

~/\\~

Author's note: And in come the Strongholds! What will happen next? Keep reading and find out!


	4. Ch 4: Walking Time Bomb

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.4: Walking Time Bomb

Warren Peace was a man that rarely, if ever, was caught off guard. Having lived ten years in near seclusion from others, traveling to remote locations all across the globe, like a gypsy without a true home, had left the young pyro with little things to be speechless over.

He had seen poverty, much poverty. He had seen famine, he had witnessed violence and been subjugated to it on numerous occasion when he was left weak and empty after an 'episode,' with little strength to protect himself. There had been kindness and honor, though rare and far between in his travels. Most would overlook such a rough looking individual, an outsider, but there were good people who would take pity on a street urchin.

And some had even given him hope.

But in the end, nothing seemed to truly stop it from taking over him every single time. He never had peace, never had a moment's of true rest. He was a walking time bomb. He was tired of doing this alone.

That was one of the main reasons why he had decided to return to Maxville. He could think of only one other solution, and he really despised thinking of whom he had to ask for help. It had crossed his mind before, but he had absolutely refused to seek out _his_ help if he could avoid it. However, Warren had tried everything from meditation, acupuncture, roughhousing with sailors, and just plain exhausting himself to the point of passing out. Nothing would work and now he was left with very little options and very little time.

Now, Warren Peace sat silent and contemplative before his two most treasured companions before his leave of Maxville: William and Layla Stronghold.

The short, sprite-like female was delicately wiping at her eyes with a tissue the Asian woman had brought her after tears had started running down her cheeks. Her husband was rubbing her back soothingly, his eyes holding concern for his wife's wellbeing.

The red-haired woman smiled brilliantly and shook her head, "Ignore me, please. The pregnancy tends to make me a little emotional." She gave her husband another reassuring smile, before turning to the silent man before her. Her lively and gentle sapphire eyes saddened just a bit when they looked upon the pyro. "How are you, Warren?"

Warren felt uncomfortable within their presence. As much as he had missed his two greatest friends, he felt that too much time had befallen them. They were different people now. They were not the same kids who had saved a flying school from the deranged and psychotic supervillan, Royal Pain. They were adults and he felt guilty for having left them without any warning ten years ago.

Guilt, pain and helpless were the only things he felt anymore.

When he didn't answer her, Layla felt a great many things all at once. Sadness for her once close friend who had disappeared for so many years without any real explanation as to why. Pain, because she had missed him dammit! And lastly, rage. That rage was now her prevalent emotion and she was going to milk it for everything it was worth!

The shy little mouse that he had known in high school had grown some.

"Now you listen here, Peace. You vanish for _ten_ years, ten very long years without a simple goodbye. I wondered for so long if you were doing alright wherever you disappeared to, wondering if you were even still alive! And I find out you return to Maxville through a phone call! A phone call, for God's sakes! And here we are, worried about you, overjoyed that you returned to us after so long and you can't even talk to me!" she seethed through her rosy lips.

"Now, darling…" Will tried to placate his wife.

"And another thing! You missed our wedding, you big jerk! You were going to be Will's best man, but since we couldn't even reach you, he had to ask Zach!"

"Biggest mistake of my life…" Will muttered with a heavy sigh.

"The biggest mistake of our lives, I tell you! That yellow highlighter didn't want to wear a black tux, so he decided to improvise. You know what he went to our weeding with? Do you?"

"Layla…"

"A bright yellow Hawaiian shirt and _matching_ swim trunks!"

"Love…"

"My poor grandmother almost had an epileptic seizure right in the middle of my wedding!"

"Layla!"

"What!" The still temperamental woman shouted, glaring at her sheepish-looking husband beside her.

Will pointed to something over her shoulder, and when Layla turned to see what it was, she had to gasp a little in embarrassment. It seems that during her chastising of the fire-manipulator, she had unknowingly released some of her powers and the small bamboo plant that Joi kept on her coffee table was growing at an exhilarating rate. The once small green plant was now triple its original size and was currently twisting around its Mistress' leg enthusiastically.

To her credit, Joi didn't seem all that bothered that her once stationary bamboo plant was now not so stationary and was eagerly wrapping around her thigh like a green tree python.

"Oh Joi, I am so sorry!" Layla withdrew her power, allowing the plant to recoil and shrink back to its original size. It humbly sat once again in its small decorative bowl, drinking up the fresh, clear water through its spidery-brown roots. "I think your plant likes you."

Joi only smiled and began standing from her position on the couch. Truthfully, she had not wanted to be present when the three friends reunited. She felt as if she were disrupting something that should only be between them. "It's alright, Layla. I think I'm going to go take a walk."

"You don't have to leave, Joi," Will spoke up from beside his spouse, absentmindedly taking Layla's hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Joi noticed that Layla instantly calmed and nodded, agreeing with her husband.

"We want you to stay, Joi." Layla replied serenely, making Warren's brow raise at the quick change in mood the woman had just gone through in less than five minutes. The once mellow, hippie-like freshman he had helped out once at Sky High to get her man (which he had found rather counterproductive at the time) had some fight in her.

The young woman only shook her head, "You guys need this time anyways. I'll be back in an hour or so." And with that, Joi made her way to her front door, her dark mane swishing side to side as she walked. She closed the door behind her and everyone in the room remained quiet for a few minutes after her exit.

Surprisingly, Warren was the first to break the silence. "She knows?"

Layla and Will's eyes shot up to take in the overpowering sight of their very much changed friend. He looked wary, something the old pyro never felt. The old Warren was silent yes, but in an intelligent, aggressive way. Not oppressed and hollow like this new Warren.

Will nodded, knowing instantly of what he referred to, "Yes, she knows about Layla's power, and mine to a certain extent. She doesn't know about the other super's, but she probably has a hunch." Will looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing, "Come to think of it, Joi never really questioned it. She just somehow _knew_."

"Enough about Joi," Layla cut in quickly, staring intently at the young, dark-skinned man before her, "Warren, will you talk to us?" her voice was once again the soft, sprite-like melody he remembered.

Warren could feel their curiosity and of all the persons he has known, he wanted to tell them the truth. He had been harboring such darkness within his soul for so long; he wanted to share his burden, if at least with the ones he had cared about the most.

But he needed to know something before he could delve into his past and very bleak future.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Warren asked what he had wanted to know for over ten years. "…Tell me about my mother."

~/\\~

"_That ungrateful boy couldn't even pass by and thank our graciousness! Why has he no manners at all! I tell you the next time his mama passes by for a quick chat, I'm going to question her disciplinary skills! If he were my boy, I would have caned him good!"_ Ming Yue harshly spat onto the grass of her garden, picturing the face of her old busboy as she did.

Joi sighed tiredly, "Auntie, he couldn't pass by today. His friends came by the apartment and right now they are catching up on old times."

When Joi had left her apartment after the incident with her rather affectionate bamboo plant, she had decided to see how her sickly uncle was doing. He was currently resting in his cushioned wheel chair with Joi sitting at his leg, resting her head against his thigh. His pale hand would comb through her hair softly, almost weakly, yet the tender touch made Joi's heart warm.

Ming Yue had on a large sunhat and gardening gloves and was viciously pulling weeds up by the roots from her precious gardenia bush. Her aunt and uncle could usually be found out in their immaculate garden relaxing inside the sheltered greenhouse with the Koi fish swimming in their pond or, in this case, tearing up the bad grass trying to kill her aunt's flowerbeds.

Joi's uncle rarely left his wheelchair, but if he had the energy, he could walk around slowly with the help of his wooden cane. The gentle man would let his gaze travel from his brazen wife to then rest on the crown of dark hair his fingers where running through. He smiled down at his niece lovingly, albeit a little tired. This did not go unnoticed by his wife.

"_Joao, inside you go!"_ Ming Yue barked out in the Cantonese she was forced to learn by her husband. Yes forced, since the Portuguese man only knew his native tongue and Cantonese. She continued on a little more gently, "_You are getting tired."_

Joi looked up then, staring intently into her uncle's pale blue eyes. "You should rest, uncle."

Joao Angel Di Paolos smiled sadly at the women of his heart, his lovely wife of many years and the daughter of his wife's deceased sister and brother-in-law. How he loved the child as if she were his own! It saddened him to know that illness prevented him from even the simplest of pleasure, like resting in the garden on a lovely afternoon with his family.

Joi raised her head and grinned widely at her uncle, "I read one of your fortune cookies yesterday; the one about the star being reborn after it dies. I liked it."

Her uncle merely chuckled and replied her in perfect Cantonese, _"You like all my fortunes, little hummingbird." _He seemed thoughtful for a moment, staring into the dark eyes of his niece before looking up to his wife, "_Dearest, I think I shall rest now."_

"Good!"

That made him chuckle. Yes, Joao Angel Di Paolos, native of Portugal, and husband to a Chinese woman, loved his family very much.

~/\\~

"Instead of asking us how she is, Warren, why haven't you gone to see her yourself?" Layla asked gently, rubbing her hand over the swell of her womb. Warren actually looked stricken at the suggestion. His head lowered unconsciously and Layla had a good guess why he was scared to see his mother again. "Warren, look at me."

When Warren ignored her, the motherly instinct in her demanded blood for all the wrong done to him and, at the same time, called for her to comfort him in the way he had been denied for so long. But she withheld from going to him, knowing that he would only push her away.

He wasn't ready for comfort quite yet.

"Your mother would never abandon you, Warren," she replied instead.

"But I did, Layla. I _did_ abandon her."

Layla was going to make him see reason, that no mother could ever be angry with their child, but a hand to her shoulder stopped her. When she looked up at Will, he was shaking his head. He knew she meant well, but Warren had changed and had become more defensive, even towards them. It was best to allow him to set his own pace, for now.

"From last I heard, she is doing alright," Will confirmed for his old best friend. "She still works at the museum as a tour guide. I think Joi might have more information than we do, she sometimes spends time with her at the _Paper Lantern_."

Warren nodded in thanks, wondering how much pain he had consciously caused his mother these past ten years. First, her husband, the once great superhero turned super villain, left his family and was eventually captured and imprisoned by The Commander, and then her son abandons her without a word for years.

Will Stronghold was a very easy-going young man. He had spent the majority of his young superhero days fighting crime alongside his parents as a true super-family. Lately, he has taken to crime fighting solo, since his parents were thinking about retiring for good and taking a long overdue vacation to Fiji.

Layla, being the kind-hearted woman he had fallen in love with, never really wanted the super life. She much more preferred her peaceful occupation as owner to a small botanical shop where she made special home remedies and sold a wide range of plants. He knew she enjoyed it immensely and never did he question her choices. Layla never really enjoyed using her powers for violence and that hasn't changed in the last couple years.

Will worked alongside his parents in the real estate business, using the cover to shelter his alter ego. And as he looked upon the face of his old companion, he wondered what life the man could have led and if that life would have healed him.

"Are you going to tell us or not, Warren," Will spoke up at last, breaking the silence that had fallen between the group.

The pyrokinetic sighed, "What do you want to know?"

Warren was surprised when Layla scoffed hotly at him, "How about why you left in the first place and why you never told anyone where you disappeared to. And then we'll take it from there."

Warren remained quiet for a moment, lost within the confines of his mind, remembering the life he lead outside of Maxville. He didn't even know where to begin. "I…" He cleared his throat since his voice was soar from disuse before continuing, "I have been traveling around for a good while now. I never told anyone where I was going, because I didn't even know where my destination was. I started off in the Venezuelan rainforest and moved east from there. I left because…I needed answers."

"Answers?" The question surprisingly came from Will.

"Yes…answers. I left because I was becoming dangerous and I needed to stop _it_ from taking over me."

"You're going to have to be alittle more specific, Warren. What is _it_?" Layla asked softly, suddenly feeling very frightened at the dark tone her old companion suddenly picked up.

Warren didn't respond and merely lifted his arms out for their questing eyes to inspect. Layla and Will lowered their eyes to his displayed arms and allowed themselves to explore the damaged skin, running their eyes up and down the expanse of it. A pained gasp escaped Layla's lips and her wide, blue eyes slightly watered at the sheer number of scars outlining his, now healed, skin.

Will noticed the scars, but remained quiet. He instead decided to mention another observation, "Warren, where are your flame tattoos?"

And it was true. The pyrokinetic had once sported twin flame tattoos on his wrists, branding him to his element. But they were gone, the now ink-free skin staring right back at him.

"William Stronghold, I can't believe you!" Layla cried out helplessly. "Of all the things you could ask him, you decide you want to know where his tattoos are!"

"The tattoos disappeared ten years ago, a week before I left Maxville," Warren whispered, instantly extinguishing Layla's anger. "I don't know why, but one morning I woke up and they were gone.

"At first, I was confused that the birthmarks I was born with had just vanished from my wrists one day, but that confusion was quickly replaced by other emotions: Rage, fury, need, and _hunger_. I did not understand it then, and I still don't understand it completely now. I was…_changing_. And this change was feeding my fire.

"It started out slowly at first. I would experience hot flashes, heat I never went through before. My body has always been a few degrees warmer than everyone else, and when I would power up, my body would double, sometimes triple, in heat. But this heat, it would take over me without cause. I would be walking down stairs and, all of a sudden, I would feel this immense, scorching warmth spread through my body wanting out. On these occasions, I just disregarded it as a temporary fever, but it never went away. It kept coming back and getting stronger. I tried researching what could be the cause of such violent attacks, but I always came out with more questions than answers.

"And then one night, I was brutality awakened by pain. My arms were already lit and the fire was already spreading through my bed sheets. In my sleep, I had somehow powered up and the fire didn't want to stop. It took all my willpower to call off that fire before it would have burned down the whole house. My mother found me sweating and convulsing on my charred sheets, with blood running down my arms.

"That's when I knew I was dangerous. I could have killed my own mother in my sleep. When the bleeding stopped, I noticed the faint scars on my arms and with years the scars have only spread, and so has the fire. _It _is uncontrollable. I am uncontrollable."

Warren paused for a moment, allowing the guilt and never ending pain to retreat from his forethought. "I left because I had too. I left to find the answers to stop it, but no one could help me. There is only one other person who could help me now."

Will, having listened patiently to his old friend, couldn't believe what he was hearing. Warren Peace, one of the strongest students to ever grace Sky High and master of his own element, was close to become a wild super.

This had to be one sick joke. It just wasn't possible.

Setting his jaw firmly, Will Stronghold stood from his position next to his wife and walked around Joi's coffee table to stand before his once best friend. Placing his hand on the pyro's shoulder, feeling it shaking moderately in his palm, one of the most powerful superhero's of the time smiled with determination down at the desperate man before him and gave the hope he so longingly craved for. "We will help you, Warren." He gave the shoulder a soft squeeze, knowing how much pressure a squeeze could actually be coming from such a powerfully strong individual.

Warren looked up into the kind, brown eyes of the son of his father's most hated enemy and felt true hope for his salvation.

~/\\~

Author's Note: You got to love a pregnant Layla, so feisty! Will sure is confidant, do you think he can help our favorite pyro? And you finally get a brief glimpse of Joi's reclusive and sickly uncle, didn't think he'd be Portuguese did you?

Part of the Sky High gang is reunited, but where are the others? Keep reading to find out!


	5. Ch 5: The Little Teleporting Girl

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.5: The Little Teleporting Girl

"We should try Ethan. He might be able to find something," Layla suggested, a brightness taking over her aura.

After hearing the young pyrokinetic explain in one sitting the last ten years of his life, Layla had become unusually solemn. The pain her friend had suffered had been great, but she wished he had told them what was going on with him all those years ago. They could have helped him. All he had to do was ask, but he had kept his suffering to himself.

Well, no more. This red-head was on a mission and she'll be damned if she couldn't help him now.

"Ethan? As in Ethan Hawk, the overgrown popsicle?" Warren asked, looking between the couple sitting before him. After Will had said his due, he had once again taken a seat next to his spirited wife.

Will rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Well actually, he goes by Dr. Ethan Hawk now. He, like Layla, decided that the super life wasn't for them, so he interned with Nurse Spex and followed a career as a medical doctor. He actually runs a clinic for supers on Sky High's campus."

"He's actually becoming very accomplished. He has even been researching, alongside with Professor Medulla, on the blood patterns and genetic makeup of supers. I am positive he can help us." Layla eyed the pyro, as if daring him to go against her wishes. He could almost hear her thinking, _just try me buddy, you mess with mama bear, you get the claws._

Warren could see no point in fighting this, maybe popsicle boy really could find a lead as to why he suddenly became so out of control. With a grunt of acceptance, Warren nodded to the sprite-like woman, who happily clapped her hands together and smiled radiantly at him. "Don't get so comfortable, hippie, I might go along with it, but it doesn't mean I'll like it."

If it were possible, Layla only smiled wider. "Oh, I so missed your humor, Warren."

To which he grunted and aimed his attention to the man beside her, "I guess a congratulations are in order. What are you having?" He motioned to Layla's growing womb.

Will only laughed, "That is what I would like to know."

Warren looked bemused, and taking pity on him, Layla explained, "I prefer the sex to be a surprise. Women shouldn't know the gender of their children before they are born; it upsets the balance of nature."

The pyro merely blinked at her, "Must be a hippie thing." He shrugged and smirked when she huffed at him.

"Honestly, my mother never even stepped foot into a hospital when she was pregnant with me. I was delivered naturally at home with family members present to help her with the birthing."

Will cringed beside her, "Honey, please, not that story again. And we both agreed that Ethan would look over your pregnancy and help deliver our child, just like with Abby."

"You make it seem like natural birth at home is barbaric, Will! It is perfectly safe! And speaking of Abigail, I should call your parents to see if she ate all her vegetables. Your father always lets her get away with skipping her peas. I swear you Stronghold's and your uncouth love of anything that needs butchering, skinning, and barbequing."

Layla stood and waddled her way into the little kitchen, grabbing the plastic phone off its perch and dialing quickly on the number faces. Someone answered on the other line because she replied a brief, "Josie, its Layla…" and proceeded to talk into the mouthpiece.

Warren turned to watch a smiling Will Stronghold. "I never did tell you about my little girl, Abigail."

~/\\~

Young Abigail Victoria Stronghold was a five year old with a mission.

What mission you ask? Well, how best to magically make her nasty broccoli disappear, of course.

The little girl was planning how best to teleport from her seat at the family dining table to the large wastebasket in the kitchen without getting noticed, when the solution to her problem was handed straight into her little, conniving hands.

The phone in the living room began to ring, begging to be answered.

Bless her mother and her distractions!

"I'll get that, you two continue eating your dinner," said Josie Stronghold, with a pointed look to her husband and her cunning little fox of a granddaughter. "And I hope all that broccoli is gone by the time I get back, Abigail."

"Yes, Granny Josie," she responded in her I'm-a-good-little-girl voice.

Josie Stronghold gave another pointed look to her husband before leaving the dining room to enter the living room to answer the phone. She had a pretty good idea who was calling.

The minute the notorious Jetstream left the dining area and answered the phone in the living room, young Abigail Stronghold gave her grandfather the most pitiful and heart-wrenching puppy dog eyes her five year old body could produce. She pouted out her little rosy bottom lip out for good measure and whimpered like a wounded animal. "Please, Gran-papa?"

Now who could honestly look into those hideously soulful and manipulative blue eyes and say no?

With a conspiring wink, Steve Stronghold, alter ego The Commander, superhero extraordinaire, gave into his five-year-old granddaughter's scheming and watched with fascinated eyes as her little body disappeared with a small '_pop.'_

Not even his youngest child had picked up her powers as quickly as the youngest addition to the Stronghold family. Abigail was a prodigy of a super.

He only felt slightly ashamed that he allowed her alittle leniency.

But she was his only grandchild (at the moment) and he, being grandpa, had the right to spoil her rotten.

~/\\~

Abigail was prone to making slight miscalculations when it came to her teleporting. She was, after all, still a child learning how to control her powers. Usually, when these little miscalculations occurred, she would be only a few feet away from her chosen destination.

She was a rather sensible five year old, so instead of throwing a royal tantrum, Abigail preferred to stick out her tongue (directing it to the chosen spot of her teleporting) and she would then proceed to stomp on the ground once, for good measure, before trying again.

That usually worked, but this time she had miscalculated by a lot.

Abigail only had to picture where she wanted to teleport to and that was usually enough to toss her body from one location to the next, but this time, she had not been thinking of her grandparent's large kitchen.

And when the little girl did not have a focal point perfectly engraved into her mind, her powers liked to play, 'guess where you are?' with her. That had gotten her into trouble a few times with her parents who would go insane looking for their lost little angel.

Or, more appropriately, their lost little trouble-maker.

When the slight lightheaded feeling of teleporting left her, Abigail felt that she was, in fact, sitting instead of standing like she usually was when she teleports. Moving aside her tawny bangs with the back of her hand, Abigail looked down and noticed two _very_ long legs resting under her bum.

Back stiff, the young girl turned around quickly to see a scary-looking face looking down at her.

"Ah! Stranger!" And with the hand currently holding the nasty vegetable, Abigail Victoria Stronghold clenched her small hand into a fist and swung a very decent punch into the scary man's jaw.

"Abigail!" a startled yell came from somewhere in the room. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to be at grandma and grandpa's house eating your dinner! Don't tell me you tried to teleport away your vegetables again, young lady! You have a lot of explaining to do when we get home. Are you alright, Warren?" Layla raced over toward her daughter, hauling her off of Warren's lap and handing her over to her father, who was sitting there speechless.

Layla then proceeded to coo over the pyro who will more than likely be sporting a bruise in the morning.

Warren was still slightly dazed and confused as to how in one moment Will was talking a mile a minute about his little girl and the next a weight was instantly deposited onto his lap none too gently. When he had looked down, he came into contact with a familiar face and large, sapphire-colored eyes and the next thing he knew that angelic little face was screaming and punching him right underneath his jaw. And damn did it hurt!

And was that…broccoli?

"Abigail Victoria Stronghold, you will apologize this instant!" Layla barked out, turning darkening eyes to her little five-year-old girl.

"But mama-"

"Now, young lady!"

Grumbling under her breath, the little teleporting girl walked out of her father's hold and stepped closer to her mother, which means she was closer to the scary man.

Swallowing a big gulp of nothing, Abigail had to force her eyes to stay locked onto the dark eyes of the scary man. "I'm sorry, stranger."

Warren's brow raised and he looked the little girl over curiously. She was definitely the spawn of Stronghold and Hippie. She had the same sprite-like features as her mother and even had the same large, blue eyes. Her hair was her father's though, a combination of brown and gold. She looked every bit an angel, and he would have thought so, if she hadn't given him a wicked punch to the jaw.

"I see she has your right hook, Stronghold," Warren said lightly, rubbing at his abused jaw and getting sticky green broccoli on his fingers.

Will chuckled nervously, "Yeah, little Abby sure does know how to pack one," he replied, unconsciously rubbing at his own face.

"Where did she get the teleporting from?" the pyro asked curiously.

"Oh that well-"

"I got that from great-great-great-great-great-_great_ grandmamma Tabitha," the little girl said proudly, though a little out of breath, smiling a rather adorable dimpled smile. _Oh this girl was trouble._

Warren felt a cool cloth being rubbed into his face and he was about to protest, when the cool cloth was replaced by something really _really_ cold.

He hissed as the cold surface made contact with the bruised area on his jaw. His hand was lifted and placed around the pouch of unforgiving frostbite. "Here, hold that bag of peas. It'll help with the inflammation," Layla said softly, pushing away the hair falling into his eyes.

Warren gave her a stern look, to which she merely ignored and took her daughter by the hand propelling her towards the couch they had been sitting on. Immediately, Will scooped up his daughter onto his own lap and placed a fatherly arm around her small frame. Warren watched through the frozen pea bag obscuring his vision as the little devil yawned widely and snuggled into her father's embrace.

Before falling asleep, Abigail had to make one last observation. "Well, at least vegetables are good for something."

~/\\~

With the little menace fast asleep, Warren decided to voice his latest concern to his friends. "What is keeping that girl so long?"

"Girl? What girl?" Layla asked bemused.

"Joi," he grounded from between his teeth, since it really did hurt his jaw to talk much. He shifted the frozen pea's alittle since his hand was getting numb. Surprisingly, the heat from earlier was calming, though that brought no comfort to him. His powers tended to be a rollercoaster of ups and downs.

Will, not thinking much of it, shrugged, "She usually visits in with her aunt and uncle at their place, or she might have passed by the _Paper Lantern._"

Warren noticed Layla's amused smile and became defensive, "What, hippie?"

"Nothing, nothing," she assured, though he could tell it wasn't sincere. Layla's mind was thinking a mile a minute, "_Those two…hmm…"_

"Isn't Lady Ming Yue still running things at the _Paper Lantern_?" he asked suddenly, startling Layla from her match-making thoughts, so much like her daughters cunning.

Though she would never admit it out loud how much her daughter reminded her of herself.

"No, now Joi runs the place. Ming Yue decided to retire," Layla said easily. She would, since she practically lived for eating that Chinese food. Thinking about Chinese…

"Warren, where are you going to stay?" Layla asked the question of the hour.

Warren didn't really know how to answer. "When you two came through that door…I was leaving."

Layla tsked, "Now why would you leave?"

"Now, Layla, don't be hard on him. You heard what he's gone through. He didn't want to get anyone involved," Will defended the pyro.

Rolling her eyes, the young woman muttered what sounded like 'men' under her breath. "What were you and Joi talking about before we came?"

The pyrokinetic frowned, the corners of his full lips pulling downwards, "She wanted to offer me a place to stay. She said I was welcomed here, in her home."

"And is that such a bad thing?" Layla asked gently. "We're here to help you, Warren. I may not know all that you suffered through, but I do know that you had to go through it alone. Well, now you have your friends back and we are not going anywhere."

"Besides, you can't deny a pretty girl such a wonderful offer," Will said with a wink aimed towards the pyro. Shifting the precious bundle in his arms closer to his chest, Will gently rubbed his thumb over his daughter's arm where he held her. "It's a good offer, Peace. Don't be stupid and take it."

That irked the fire-wielder out of his stupor, "I'll think about it."

"We should go see Ethan as soon as possible. He tends to get busy with his other super patients. I'll call him tomorrow to see when he can meet us."

Warren nodded and fisted his hand around the loose fabric of Joi's uncle's sweatpants. "Thank you, both of you."

Will smiled his cheesy little grin, the one he remembered from all those years ago when he was nothing but fresh meat walking the halls of Sky High. "Don't mention it, Peace. What are friends for?"

"Now don't you disappear on us again, Warren. I'd hate to use my daughter as a blood hound." The Hippie just had to threaten him with her evil spawn didn't she?

"Wasn't planning on it."

It was getting darker out. The half-moon was already out and so were a few stars. Warren Peace had missed the grand view of such a small town sleeping the night away. For so long he slept with one eye open, knowing that he was never truly safe.

But here, in his old home, surrounded by the people he called friends, he could allow that eye to finally rest as well. He will go see Ethan, the popsicle man, and see if he had answers for him. Hell, maybe even Medulla had an idea with that enormous brain of his.

He might even go see his mother.

"Hey Warren, I almost forgot. You said you knew someone that could possibly help you figure out what was happening to you. Maybe we should call them after seeing Ethan. Another prospective idea is good to have." Will said while standing by the doorway.

Warren stiffened at the mention of _him_. He did not want to go to _him _if he could avoid it. He masked his sudden unease, "We'll see what Popsicle says and go from there."

No, he would avoid seeing that man until he was the last, and only, resort.

~/\\~

Author's Note: Been dazed and confused for so long…hehe a little Led Zeppelin for you. I wish Abigail was my evil spawn! She is just such a cute, evil little thing. Where is Joi? You'll find out! And who does Warren not want to see? I think it's pretty obvious, don't you?

I gave Ethan a last name since he doesn't have one in the movie (or at least I don't think so?). If he does have a last name in the movie, let me know so I can fix it!

Keep reading!


	6. Ch 6: The Junior Detective

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.6: The Junior Detective

The moment Joi entered the _Paper Lantern _that evening she felt the tense atmosphere dissipate. One of her regular waitresses smiled her way and continued taking the order of the couple before her. She waved to the assistant manager, Shui, who was also taking care of a table. He acknowledged her with a curt nod and went back to jotting down the table's order. Joi wondered why she had felt that suffocating aura when she walked in, but the answer came before she had to question it further.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad it's you and not the dragon."

Joi turned her head in the direction of the voice and merely shrugged. "Did my aunt give you a hard time, Michelle?"

Michelle Khan, one of the part-time waitresses and the youngest at seventeen, shook her head and shuffled the tray she was holding from one hand to the other. "Do I really need to confirm it with you, boss?"

Joi laughed and shook her own head, "Nope. What was it this time?"

"Oh it's pretty ordinary. 'Khan! I told you, no poppin' gum! And shoe no black!' Yep, just the ordinary," Michelle said, trying to imitate Ming Yue's broken English.

The young Asian woman noticed that her waitress was indeed wearing a rather fetching pair of purple flats and was currently chewing away at her pink bubble gum. No matter how many times she would be warned by her aunt, Michelle was too original (or had a death wish) to come to work in regular black shoes and the gum gave her stress relief, or so she says. Michelle was one of the few who did not fear Lady Ming Yue and that fact irritated her aunt to no end.

"I think you just like getting under her skin." Joi grinned wickedly when Michelle only confirmed it.

"I love that woman, but she's always trying to throw off my style," she sighed and popped her pink bubble gum, "Well, I better be getting back to cleaning up after the children."

Joi watched her stride away before heading into the chaotic kitchen. Knowing her aunt like she did, the chef's probably got a good verbal thrashing and were most likely muttering curses under their breaths and hacking away at the vegetables and meats aggressively.

No one looked up from their work when she swung the kitchen door wide open. Everyone was running around like headless chickens, pushing at each other to get through, trying to reach pots, ingredients, or stoves. They were barking out insults at each other in Mandarin and it made for a rather comical view.

Xing-Xing, as usual, was the only chef laid-back and he refrained from bickering with his fellow coworkers. He was the first to notice her entrance.

Joi was graced with a very wide and friendly smile from her favorite chef, "Hey kid, glad to have you back."

At the announcement that their boss was in their territory, the other chefs stopped their curses and straightened themselves out. The sudden quiet that took over the usually noisy kitchen was surprising to Joi.

"Well, what's the hold up? Keep working, chefs," she barked out much like her aunt, only she was grinning at them in humor.

The chefs all chuckled and seemed to relax. They all liked their new boss just fine. They all got back to work, one chef whistling a happy tune and all were glad that Ming Yue had left for the day.

Xing-Xing wiped his hands on his apron and walked towards his favorite Cantonese-speaking boss. "Ming Yue was rather energized today; she spouted an extra amount of cuss words. It was heaven." His jolly mood simmered down a bit, "I was worried when you didn't come in, kid. Is everything alright?"

The young woman smiled reassuringly, "Everything's fine, Xing-Xing. I just wanted to check in to see if everything was in order."

Xing-Xing crossed his tan arms over his chest, "When that spine-less Shui saw Lady Ming Yue, I think he almost soiled himself. He started sucking up to her in all his pathetic glory and I think she was five seconds away from poking his eye out with a chop stick. She then came in here and shouted some more."

Joi had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop from laughing out right. "Now, Xing-Xing, he is a decent enough manager."

Her head chef gave her a pointed look, "Well enough for you maybe, but Lady Ming Yue found more faults than praises to yell at him. I heard her cursing all the way from in here."

No wonder he didn't even want to smile at her when she walked in. Poor, poor Shui. She knew that everyone was tense because of her aunt's visit today. "My aunt finds faults in everyone and everything, but I didn't come in today for that. I actually have a proposition for you."

The middle-aged Chinese man gave her a leveled look and tilted his head to the side slightly, "What can I help you with, kid."

~/\\~

After speaking with Xing-Xing, Joi decided that enough time had passed for the three friends to catch up. She left the _Paper Lantern_ and walked home in comfortable silence, her thoughts drifting continuously to her current roommate.

Something had happened to him and she wanted to know what.

But for now she would just have to eat her own curiosity. But the nagging presence in her mind that kept pushing him into her forethought wanted her to question him. Wanted her to find out what was his secret. Somehow, she had a feeling he had several.

One of them she already had a clue to. She had known Layla for many years now and the older woman never confirmed, nor denied, that she had a special gift. The incident with her bamboo plant today confirmed all of her sound guesses. Layla could control plants.

Years of having witnessed secretly from the safety of the _Paper Lantern's _kitchens the older girl toying with the flower center-pieces when she thought no one was looking, making the pretty yellow, red, or pink flowers grow into full-bloom and remain so without wilting away for weeks. It questioned her sanity then, but Joi knew she wasn't crazy.

Layla had been hiding something and now she knew what it was.

Will Stronghold was never a close friend until he married Layla. She started seeing more of him and had conceded that he was a very friendly, if at times a little self-righteous, young man. He was funny, in an unorthodox sort of way, and made her friend unbelievably happy. And their daughter was absolutely adorable!

She had known that like Layla, Will was hiding something. She had already suspected Layla of having a gift for green life, but Will was a tad bit harder to figure out. She even thought for a long time that he didn't have any sort of ability, but why then the secrecy? He tended to hold back when shaking hands with other people and he would sometimes unconsciously jolt up from wherever he stood, as if he wanted to jump into the air and take off!

It wasn't until that promising night at the _Paper Lantern,_where the couple in question had decided to have dinner, did Joi really get an idea of just what kind of power Will Stronghold possessed.

After having waved them off for the night, she had turned back to the table they had occupied to get started on cleaning it up. The moment she had placed her hands on the wood's surface, the table gave way a bit. The sudden lurch almost unbalanced her, but thankfully she hadn't embarrassed herself and remained upright. Crouching low, Joi had looked under the table to see why the metal legs were wobbling under her weight.

What she found left her with little doubt that William Stronghold possessed an incredible Herculean strength.

The once perfectly smooth steel table leg had been gripped in a brutal hand and had been squeezed until the metal was shriveled in on itself. She had no doubts after that.

This sudden new awareness left her questioning if others hid from society as her friends did. She was a smart girl. She watched the news and knew enough about the local supervillans and superheroes. It had not crossed her mind that these people probably led ordinary lives besides crime fighting, or crime doing. Behind their masks, they were ordinary citizens of Maxville.

That was a hard punch to swallow.

So now she had to question herself, was Warren one of them? She had never witnessed anything strange when he had been working as a busboy. He was a gruff, yet hard-working boy, never causing any sort of trouble. She had never seen any private shows of power as she had with Layla and Will.

All she could remember was last night and how he had been releasing smoke from his body without any evidence that he had been burned or merely smoking a cigarette. She doubted it was either one. There had to be something that she was overlooking.

She hadn't realized that she was already within feet of her apartment complex until she began treading up the stairs. Banishing her internal investigation of the young man currently staying at her place, Joi finished walking upstairs and made it to the door of her apartment.

The door was open when she went inside. Closing it behind her, she took a step inside. The first thing she noticed was that Layla and Will had already retired for the evening. The second thing she noticed was that a certain fowled-tempered young man was resting on her couch with a bag of frozen peas on his face.

His muscles were taut as he laid stretched out on her couch, the length of him making the piece of furniture seem minuscule compared to him. His chest was rising and falling with his gentle breaths, his hands resting on his stomach. The hem of his white shirt had ridden up in his sleep and Joi could see the beginning of smooth, tan skin where his hands rested.

Joi sucked in a sharp breath of air through her teeth. Gods, but was he handsome. From where she stood, she could only see the half of his face that wasn't obscured by the frozen peas. His right eye was closed, allowing the black lashes to settle against his skin. His head was on the sofa's armrest, his unkempt hair falling over the edge in dark, damp strands.

The peas were thawing as they rested against his face, the water running down his throat and wetting the collar of his white shirt. He looked so content to just lay there on her little, khaki sofa that she didn't know if she should wait until tomorrow to give him the good news.

She unconsciously wetted her lips, pondering if she should wake him or not. She wrung her hands over the tough material she held and stood there by her door, running her eyes over the man that slept unaware of her presence.

After making up her mind, Joi walked further into her apartment and headed to the couch where her nonconsensual roommate slept. She noticed that her heartbeat strangely speed up as she neared him, but she overlooked it as nerves. He was an intimating sight, even in his sleep.

She was curious as to the reason for the frozen peas. So, when the young Asian woman stood beside him on the couch and leaned over so she could lift it off his face, she was surprised, to say the least, that he was sporting a purple bruise on the left side of his jaw.

Dropping the frozen peas onto the coffee table, Joi didn't even think about it as she sat beside his legs on the couch and ran her cool fingers over his bruised jaw. Worry like she never felt before, even stronger than the constant concern she felt for her sickly uncle, washed over her. How had he been hurt? She had only been gone for about two hours at most. He had been just fine with Layla and Will.

And that's when it hit her. Will.

Had he done this? She couldn't picture the easy-going young man punching his old best friend in the face, but the shriveled table leg came into her mind. How easily he had mutilated a piece of furniture with only a squeeze of his large hand. Maybe it was an accident?

As her mind swam with thoughts, Joi didn't notice that her fingers were still caressing his cheek. They seemed to have a mind of their own as they brushed over his smooth skin, almost desperately wanting to erase the angry-looking blemish. Her other hand had somehow found its own perch on the exposed skin of his stomach and was absentmindedly tracing the ridges of his abdomen. She could feel his intakes and outtakes of air through her hand as his stomach expanded and then receded again.

He was so unbelievably warm. The sheer heat of him was spreading through her skin and blood, making it race. She wondered if he was catching a fever, but remembered that he had been just as warm when she had traced the scars marring his arms.

She remembered the feeling of that candle igniting within her being. That gentle, licking flame that had coursed through her body twice already. It was exhilarating, dangerous, and so unbelievably wild. And she found herself longing for it.

_What is happening to me?_

Warren Peace was assaulted with numerous things all at once.

He could make out in his fogged mind that someone was touching him. He felt fingers and knuckles brushing against the raw skin of his jaw, the frozen peas gone. The skin still burned with pain, but the cool fingers were caressing and gentle in their touch.

After Layla and Will drove away in their conservative SUV, taking along with them their sleeping hell spawn, he had once again sat on Joi's sofa and decided to wait up on the young woman who had graciously offered to share her home with him.

After a few uncomfortable minutes sitting there, he had stretched out on the couch, placing the frozen peas just so that they would stay balanced on his face, and closed his eyes. Apparently, he had fallen asleep.

The pyrokinetic could also feel fingers grazing his abdomen. A shudder raked through his body as the long, gentle fingers ghosted over his hip bone. The cool contact was distracting and he almost groaned when the fingers were foregone and a small palm replaced them, touching his burning flesh. Neither hand ceased their explorations on his person. He felt himself drowning in the sensations.

His senses were being assaulted and the icing to the cake was the wonderful and familiar scent surrounding him. It was that same clean, distinctively feminine smell he had awoken to in Joi's room just a few hours ago. It reminded him of the jungles of India, ripe with blossoming wild flowers and fresh spring rain. The smells of damp earth and lemon grass, the scent of magic and ancient power.

When he opened his eyes, Warren waited a moment before resting his vision on the young woman before him. She was a strange beauty. Her subtlety made her lovely, her unpretentious nature made her stunning. She was comfortable in her own skin, but didn't flaunt it for the world to see. She sat there beside him, her thick hair falling over her shoulder sensually and her questing hands driving him crazy and she didn't even realize it. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes were unfocused, but she seemed to be deep in thought.

Normally, the pyro would have shoved those hands away from his skin and growled out a warning to back off, but he found himself reassured by her touch, by her mere presence in his life. How could she imbed herself so strongly into his self in a matter of hours? He didn't want to push her away, at least not right now, and he did not want to be cruel to her. He knew by pushing her away, he would only be hurting her and, grudgingly, himself.

She was even more dangerous than his abandoned power.

Joi Li Feng, a girl who had been raised by a crazed aunt and a sickly uncle, a girl who had mourned at age six the death of her parents, a girl who grew into a radiant woman and managed to be kind in spite of it all, had become so much more confusing than he would have liked.

"I swear if he did this, I'm going to…" Warren snapped his eyes back to the Asian woman before him, not realizing that he too had delved and lost himself to his thoughts. She was still staring at something over his head, her eyes unfocused and curiously hard. She had mumbled out those words, not realizing that she had spoken them out loud.

Taking hold of the hands caressing his face and abdomen, though not roughly, Warren watched as her dark eyes focused and they quickly lowered to look at him. Her body tensed beside his and he almost sighed, he didn't want her to fear his reaction. They sat there, looking at each other in silence, wondering what the other was thinking. Slowly, Warren released her hands and she snatched them away, her hands taking up the rough cloth on her lap and toying with the hem.

"Who did what?"

She had lowered her eyes after he had released her hands and Joi was expecting him to lash out at her for touching him. She didn't know what came over her. She was usually more reserved when it came to the opposite sex, though she duly noted that when it came to Warren Peace she was always a bit brash. But still, that gave her no right to basically molest him as he slept unawares. An Eskimo kiss was nothing compared to what she did, no matter if she was worried about his abused jaw.

She was about to apologize when he had spoken up. "What?" she asked distractedly.

He repeated himself. "I asked who did what?" He sat up on the couch, unconsciously bringing himself closer to her. Her fresh scent was even more overpowering at this close distance.

Surprised at his closeness, Joi clutched the fabric tighter against herself, "Oh, um," she hadn't realized she had been speaking out loud and that he had been awake for longer than she thought he was. Sighing, she asked what she had wanted to know, "Who did that to you?" She motioned to his bruised jaw, but did not touch him.

Certain that if he told her a little teleporting girl with super strength had punched the living daylights out of him because he was a 'stranger' wasn't going to cut it, he replied a simple, "I tripped."

At that Joi raised a brow, not believing him for one bit, "You tripped?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, the pyro nodded and said no more on the matter. Joi knew better than to try to make him open up, so she went against her curious nature and let it go.

The rough material in her hands reminded her of what she wanted to talk to him about before she saw the bruise on his face. Taking it into her hands, she held it out for the older man to take.

Now it was Warren's turn to raise a brow, "What's this?" Taking it from her hands, he unraveled it and held it before him. The rough material was familiar in his hands. It was an off-white color and the fabric was of an interwoven cotton and nylon used mainly in restaurant napkins and tablecloths.

The material had two long drawstrings and was hemmed at its borders so that the stitching wouldn't come undone, no matter how many times it saw a washing machine. Looking closer at it, he noticed a small, circular burgundy stain at the very corner of the cloth. It appeared to be wine.

That stain looked awfully familiar.

Meeting the anxious eyes of the Asian woman before him, Warren wondered if she was asking him what he thought she was asking him. "This is my old apron."

Nodding, Joi smiled, "How about it, Warren, for old time sakes?"

~/\\~

Author's Note: You threw off my groove!

Oh, Joi, brazen enough to touch our dear pyro while he's sleeping. Well, at least Warren isn't accusing sexual harassment. I say, he did like it quite a bit. Will he say yes to the job opportunity? Will he say no?

Next chapter will have Ethan! And my has he changed, you'll find out just how much. There will also be other familiar faces present. Keep reading and find out who!

And a special thank you to my favorite reviewer, Talis Ruadair! Always giving me good feedback and encouragement, your reviews always inspire me to keep going! Thank you for reading my story and thanks to all the anonymous readers out there as well!


	7. Ch 7: Clinic for Heroes

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch. 7: Clinic for Heroes

Julia Godfrey was severely and irrevocably bored.

Blowing at the strands of wheat-colored hair falling into her eyes, the stunning young woman once again crossed her long legs, losing count on how many times she had crossed and uncrossed her legs for the past forty-five minutes.

Her appointment had been scheduled for eight o'clock in the morning. It was now a quarter to nine, and she was still sitting in the waiting room, glaring at the magazines and newspapers spread out neatly on the decorative center table. She had looked through them all (she regretted to say) and was now with nothing to do except stare at the wall clock that she swore was mocking her pain and, discreetly, people watch.

There were a grand total of five other supers currently taking residence in the _Clinic for Heroes_. Three she remembered vaguely from Sky High. They seemed to recall who she was too, but they didn't approach her and she ignored them for the better part. People tended to stay away from others who gave off the cold shoulder with pride.

A rather glorified and pretentious super, she believed his name was the Chameleon, was showing off for a dark-haired girl who was sitting across from him by changing his appearance from a body-builder who looked more like a steroid user, a rather thin looking boy with messy hair that had a poetic air about him, and his favorite, a biker guy with way too many tattoos and a devil-may-care attitude. The girl was giggling like a fool into her hand and coyly twirling her hair around her finger, occasionally winking seductively.

Honestly, they were in a clinic for God's sake!

Sickened by the sight, Julia forewent her people watching and looked at the wall clock once more. Ten minutes to nine.

The soothing music resounding in the room wasn't helping matters any more than the dark-haired girl's incessant giggling. She was going to freeze something soon or lose her mind in the process.

Why had she listened to her mother about this? She was fine, better than fine actually. It had been years since she had last been sick and she was in topnotch condition. She was a good super and over the years her powers had increased substantially. She didn't need to see the doctor. But her mother had stated otherwise and begged her to just go in for a regular check up, if nothing more than to see if she was healthy enough to have children.

Her mother was a riot.

Always the one to fall for the bad boy, Julia Godfrey had little hope in finding, 'the one,' and she wasn't particularly in a hurry either. As much as her mother wanted grandbabies out of her, she wasn't giving her any at the moment. Maybe never with the way things were going.

Men were just assholes, period. She had been cold and ruthless in relationships, protecting her heart and caring very little for her partners. In the end, the technique she had perfected for years now had saved her many a heartache. The only one who thought differently was her aging mother who wanted her youngest child to find happiness and possibly pop out a baby or two.

Honestly, wasn't the woman contempt with the eight grandchildren her brother's gave her that she still has to ask for more?

Sighing, the blond-haired woman once again uncrossed her legs and looked at the clock marking the minutes of her life. Nine o'clock, one hour after her appointed time.

"Godfrey, Julia! Godfrey, Julia!" the old dinosaur sitting in the nurses' station called out through the small glass-paned window.

"Finally," she muttered under her breath and stood in all her 6'1 glory, pale, wheat-colored hair tied impeccably in a French braid and blue-green eyes shining radiantly under the harsh, florescent lighting. She walked towards the dinosaur, who was smiling at her widely.

Nurse Spex had to be at least one hundred years old already. The woman had no available skin that was without wrinkles and her snow-white hair was, as always, tied back and professional. She was a strange woman, with an even stranger power, but for what it's worth, Julia never disliked the disconcerting woman with x-ray vision.

"Why Freeze Girl, I haven't seen you in ages! You are looking quite lovely, dear," Nurse Spex complimented, her thin lips never losing its smile.

"Thank you," she replied politely, and to the point, as always when it came to the rather cold woman.

"Oh my, I'm keeping you from the doctor. Go right on ahead, dear." With that, Nurse Spex pressed a button on her desk and the door that led out of the waiting room and into the actual clinic opened a crack so she could go through.

Thanking her once again, Julia opened the door wider and walked in, allowing the door to close soundly behind her. Good thing too, she might have snapped if the Chameleon decided to bring up his game and really impress the giggling nutcase.

"Just get this over with, Julia girl, and then you can go home_,"_ she whispered to herself and walked further down the hallway she had been standing in.

The clinic itself wasn't very large, nothing compared to the sheer size of the high school it shared its location with. If anything, it was probably the size of four or five classrooms from Sky High.

Since it was her first time in the clinic, she wasn't certain where she was supposed to go. Walking slowly, she froze when she heard a deep baritone voice call out to her from somewhere down the hall. "In here, Ms. Godfrey."

The tenor of that voice had been so masculine and sensual, like a New Orleans's jazz singer back in the '40s that Julia wondered if she should follow it or turn high tail out of that clinic. Her mother honestly wanted her to have a male doctor, what the heck was wrong with her?

If Freeze Girl were anything, she certainly was not a coward. She would put on a brave face and go into that room, make her mother happy by sitting there and doing as the good doctor asked, and then leave with everything intact and a bill of good health to shove down her mother's throat.

Gathering her famed icy demeanor, Julia waltzed into the doctor's office and noticed that the man wasn't even looking at her.

The nerve of him!

The doctor had his back turned and from the sound of it, was currently removing gloves from his hands. He was a tall, slim looking-man a few inches taller than her, which was a feat in itself. Rarely did she find men taller than her. He was wearing dark brown trousers and had foregone the customary white coat, wearing instead a striped, long sleeved white dress shirt with an orange tie to set it off. He looked professional enough, though she still hadn't seen the sneaks face.

What she didn't want to notice was that the good doctor had impossibly broad shoulders and she could see the wonderful muscles of said shoulders through his dress shirt. Or that he seemed to have wonderfully built thighs, the thick muscles tightening against his pant leg. Even his rather lanky frame was attractive, and she still hadn't seen his face!

Mother, O, Mother what have you gotten your daughter into?

"I see here, Ms. Godfrey that you're new here, so let me welcome you to the first ever medical center for supers…is that you, Freeze Girl?"

Julia "Freeze Girl" Godfrey finally got a good look at her mysterious doctor. He was very handsome and she found it strange she thought so. She wasn't usually attracted to black men, not that she had anything against them, just that she was never physically attracted to them. Well, until now.

Her doctor was a fine specimen of male indeed. He had an intelligent, I-know-exactly-who-I-am personality to him. He had intensely dark skin, the color of rich mocha with eyes the same dark color. His lips were a paler brown and through them she caught glimpses of his very white, straight teeth. His nose was slightly flat and wide, but they off-set nicely with his full lips. Upon his nose rested a pair of frame-less glasses, which she caught him pushing up with his finger nervously as she continued to study him.

His hair was an ebony black and he kept it in tight little braids that would have framed his face, but were tied back in a lose tail against his neck. He was nothing like the men she usually went for and she was surprised that she liked him as much as she did. She didn't even know his name for crying out loud!

Julia watched fascinated as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and she wondered if he was uncomfortable with her gawking.

Feeling incredibly rude, Julia cleared her throat. "How do you know me, doctor?"

Doctor Ethan Hawk blinked several times until his fogged mind cleared. He wasn't expecting her, of all people, in his office. The older girl who he went to school with, the hero who had every guy wanting her, but none were able to have her (except for Warren, of course), was standing there, looking like a Greek goddess from myth under the superficial lighting.

She didn't look right standing there. She belonged in the beaches of Cyprus, not in this bleached white room that smelled like ammonia. Still beautiful and untouchable, her pale hair and soft-looking skin and those crystal clear eyes that could make even the most warm-blooded of creature's blood freeze.

And she didn't recognize him. Figures.

"We went to school together, but I was three years your junior. It's alright if you don't remember me, we never really talked," he shifted his weight again and licked his dry lips.

His deep baritone voice was causing gooseflesh to arise on her arms. He says he went to Sky High with her and was three years her junior. A freshman? But how could she forget someone like him?

"I'm sorry, but-"

He lifted his palm to stop her apology and smiled sadly, allowing her a glimpse of his white teeth. "It's alright, no need to apologize. It was a long time ago. Now, Ms. Godfrey, you came for a complete run through. Let's start by documenting your blood pressure."

The sudden professional tone he took with her threw her off. She didn't like it. And she was going to let him know it. "Julia."

His impossibly dark eyes looked at her, "Excuse me?"

Lifting her face to be more eye-level to his, she gave him the most intimidating look she could muster, "My name is Julia, doctor-?"

"Hawk."

Lifting a brow at the short clipped name, she did not go to take a seat when he motioned for her to. She remained looking at him with her one brow raised in question, expecting a better answer than that.

Sighing, the good doctor answered her satisfactorily, "Ethan. Ethan Hawk."

"Well, Ethan Hawk, lets proceed," and she took her seat, following her mother's advice and letting the doctor do all the testing he had to.

She stored his name in the back of her mind. It was time to go hunting in the attic for her school yearbook.

~/\\~

Xing-Xing pounded on the young pyro's back with the same enthusiasm he was prone to show. With a wide, friendly smile, he barked out a laugh, "Warren Peace, didn't think I'd see you again anytime soon. Now where did you go and get lost at? Never mind, Never mind, one shouldn't be nosy. Come so you can greet the chefs, you'll be working back here in the kitchens with us from now on."

Warren grumbled under his breath and wondered what was so fascinating about his back that everyone that saw him decided that it was lonely and needed a good pat? Or, in Xing-Xing's case, a good thumping.

The renewed busboy looked over to the very amused Asian woman, now boss, who was smiling and giving him the thumbs-up. He was seriously reconsidering his decision in taking up her offer.

Last night when she had given him back his apron, he had felt like his old self again. The Warren that was still going to a magical flying school for teens with amazing gifts and was always in control of himself, the boy who didn't disappear and leave everything he knew for the unknown. He had clung to that apron as if it were his lifeline. He needed some stability in his life and Joi was presenting it to him with no underhanded catch.

She had simply offered him work, and in turn he could stay at her place, while his rent came out of his pay. She offered normalcy, a chance for him to actually do something besides run, and he took it. He had taken her offer.

Now he wondered if he made the right choice.

Graciously, though he was tired of her generosity, Joi had purchased him clothes appropriate to work in. A pair of black Dickies© and white shirts, even going as far as purchasing two black, water-proof shoes so that his feet wouldn't get wet when he cleaned the floor.

When he was about to refuse her purchase, she assured him that it was not a gift. It would be subtracted from his paycheck so he couldn't grumble about it. That girl had been scarily like her aunt then.

Following the head chef into the kitchen, Warren was bombarded with genuine greeting and welcome backs. The chef's mainly spoke Mandarin, he speaking more Cantonese, but he understood them well enough. They were happy to have him back and they relayed to him past busboys and their lack of work ethic. If one thing the Chinese regarded highly was work ethic. Some began questioning what his life was like after he left the _Paper Lantern_, but with a quick barked order from Xing-Xing, their questions were forgotten and all turned back to their work.

"You're a veteran here, Peace. I'm certain you remember your tasks and don't need me training you all over again, right?"

"Right."

Xing-Xing laughed and patted his back again, "Good, good. Well then, get to work. Start with the dishes in the sink and then go out and clean up tables after customers leave."

Nodding, Warren silently began his chore and didn't mingle much with the others. It was just like old times. It was like déjà vu, doing things he did ten years ago. The kitchens were always bustling with noise and cooking, drowning out much from his mind.

He needed to keep away from his mind for a while.

Another thing that this job provided was a distraction. He didn't have to think of the life he lived, the things he missed out on and the man he could have been. He just had to focus on working and following orders. It was robotic work, but blissful in its simplicity.

He thought vaguely that he had missed Chinese food very much. He never did get to travel to China when he was away, but that would have been an interesting experience.

After working three hours straight without pause, Xing-Xing came up to him, "Table 6 wants you do be their waiter. Clean up and get out there, Peace."

He just started working that day and already he was being called upon to wait a table. Nodding, albeit hesitantly, he didn't want to make a big deal out of it and say no. Joi had given him a stable job and he weirdly didn't want to let her down. He would suck it up and do his job, no matter what.

After washing up and drying his hands on the apron he wore, Warren walked briskly out of the smoking kitchen and into the oriental atmosphere of the _Paper Lantern_. As he walked towards table 6, he noticed three figures sitting at the table.

As he neared them, he was thinking about turning right around and going back into the kitchens, but the damn Hippie had to spot him, didn't she?

"Warren!" she waved excitedly at the pyrokinetic walking towards them, giving him a perfect, friendly smile.

Her husband was sitting in front of her, but upon hearing his wife call out to their mutual friend, he turned and waved as well, smiling his own crooked smile. Knowing he couldn't get away with walking away now, Warren walked towards them and noticed the little terror was with them too.

Great.

"Stronghold. Hippie. _Brat_." He greeted each in turn, putting an extra emphasis on brat while glaring at the tawny-haired, blue-eyed menace sitting next to Layla.

"I see Joi gave you the busboy position. They haven't had a decent busboy here in years," Will replied good-naturedly. "Glad to see you took up her offer, Peace."

"Yes, Warren, we're really happy for you. You should visit us at home sometime soon. You're more than welcomed to pass by anytime, Joi knows where we live." Layla's sapphire eyes glittered happily and a bit conniving, as if she were planning something. She patted her daughter's hair lovingly, but that little twerp was currently sticking out her tongue at him.

She looked so innocent and angelic, even with that little pink tongue sticking out at him. He might have liked her at one point, but the brat just rubbed him the wrong way.

Catching her daughter, Layla scolded her, "Now Abigail, be nice."

"What is little Queen Victoria up to now?"

Warren turned his head to the side, seeing Joi standing there beside him with her dark hair pulled into a high ponytail and dressed in the same uniform she wore the night she found him. Her dark eyes were dancing mischievously as she watched them all.

Why couldn't she just spare him the agony and take this table?

"Li-Li!" Abigail squealed, climbing over her mother's lap (careful of her little brother or sister) and tackled the Asian woman about the waist. She rested her head against Joi's covered thigh, turning her head up and smiling brilliantly at her.

Joi merely chuckled, far too used to little Victoria's antics to be surprised. "I hope you are behaving, my queen."

Instantly the little girl straightened her posture and lifted her nose in the air while closing her eyes as her bangs covered them, "Oh course, servant, a queen always behaves."

That earned her a chuckle from Joi and her parents.

"Well I am glad," Joi said regally, bowing at the waist like a butler, "If you will excuse me, my queen, but your royal guests need my immediate services."

"Carry on then, carry on."

Warren, alittle confused at their performance, watched Joi saunter off to another table and Abigail climb over her mother's lap again to take her seat beside her. Her little head still held up proudly as if she really were the bloody queen of England.

"I'm hungry, servant. Feed your queen," Abigail Victoria Stronghold ordered the lowly peasant, Warren, to follow her orders.

Muttering under his breath about hell spawns, Warren took down their orders and brought out their food all within twenty minutes. He was about to leave, thankful that he had completed his duty to Joi without barbequing Stronghold's pesky daughter, when Layla called out to him again.

"What now, Hippie?"

She smiled and looked triumphant when he turned to her. "Ethan agreed to see us tomorrow at noon. I'll pass by Joi's tomorrow to pick you up, be ready by 11:30."

~/\\~

Author's Note: Ooh la la, Ethan and Freeze girl? Told you Ethan was going to look different, but he's still our dorky melting puddle. And I just loved the concept of Miss Ice herself starting to like a sweet guy like Ethan. If you don't like the pairing, too bad! I love it! I was thinking of it even before I started writing the story, because Freeze Girl is a woman scorned and she needs someone besides a bad boy to melt her up!

Now, in the movie, I believe Freeze Girl was never given a name, so I named her for my story.

The Chameleon is actually that blond kid who messed with Zach by changing into Coach Boomer in the movie. What a prick, eh? Unfortunately age hasn't rewarded him with good sense.

Hope you are enjoying the story so far, keep reading!


	8. Ch 8: Moving Forward

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.8: Moving Forward

Joi opened her bedroom door and yawned widely. Rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hands, she stretched and rolled her neck, getting out the last cricks of sleep. Having worked a late shift the night before, she hadn't awoken until ten o' clock in the morning. Walking over towards the only window in the living room, she opened the blinds, allowing the sunlight to enter her dark apartment.

The warm, yellow light made the morning that much more enjoyable, as she stood there looking through the glass. The sky was littered with small rolling clouds and a few birds flew overhead in large groups. Turning back to her living room, Joi couldn't help but grin at the disheveled man that currently rested on her couch.

Warren Peace was lying on his side, his lips slightly parted and he was snoring lightly. The thin blanket Joi had given him last night was covering him below the waist and he was wearing the same sweatpants and white shirt that he had been wearing yesterday.

It was a little strange to have someone to share her apartment with after having lived by herself for two whole years. In a way, she liked having him there. He may be silent and brooding at times, but he was a companion and Joi always did have a strange friendship with him.

He was six years her senior, but never had he once treated her like a child. Even when she had been acting childish and had been prone to mischief, he only ever growled at her to leave him be or to take out her tendencies on someone else. Just remembering all those moments, the moments he had been present in her life, left her craving for those past exchanges again.

He had been so important to her, his presence even more necessary than an imaginary friend to a child. It had hurt her twelve-year-old self when all of a sudden he hadn't shown for work in three days and his mother was the one who later called to inform her aunt that he had left home without a word and that he hadn't left a note stating where he would be going. His mother had taken it so hard, burring herself in work and never passing by to see her aunt and uncle at their home or at the _Paper Lantern_. She kept to herself for almost two years and not until her own coworkers at the museum threaten to steal her away in the middle of the night if she didn't move on, did she finally put to rest her son's disappearance.

However, a mother could never truly move on when their child had been lost to the world.

Joi hadn't noticed that her once joyful mood had become melancholy. Thinking about Warren and his mother made her want to curl up into a ball and have a good cry. She knew how crazy that man was for his mother, how he adored her above any other living being on this planet. He respected the woman and cherished her more than he could ever come to cherish his own self. It had warmed Joi's heart seeing them together, watching as Warren would treat his mother to dinner at random because he wanted to, showing her his appreciation for her being in his life. For being his mother.

Where had it gone?

The dark-haired woman didn't know a thing about what this man had gone through or why he had to leave the woman of his life the way he did. If she knew Warren Peace at all, she knew that he would never abandon his mother. His love for her was infallible, immeasurable. It had to be something so life-changing, something so terrible that would cause this man to run away from the only woman he would willingly give his life for.

Why hasn't he gone to see her? She knew that the moment that Francesca D'Avignon merely glanced at her son again, she would never let him depart from her side. The woman had been consumed by grief and despair and _longing_ to have her child by her side for so many years now that it was within her rights to know he had returned to Maxville. It was cruel what he was doing.

Warren had his mother within walking distance, while she could no longer reach her own. It hurt Joi deeply to think that someone chose to stay away from their only family (for she didn't know if he had a father or any other relatives besides his mother), when others were forced to live without them. Thinking about her parent's ill-fortuned deaths, Joi wondered if Warren had ulterior motives for staying away from his mother.

Joi's mother and father had been marine biologist who occasionally made wild-life documentaries for university students in China. They had recently been researching and documenting on the aloof migrating patterns of Western North Pacific Grey Whales, going out on boat to videotape their journey up and down the Pacific Ocean. It was a cursed day when Japanese whaling ships invaded the area and maliciously hunted, caught, and gutted the migrating whale's right before their eyes. Everything had been caught on tape and for days her parents had continued to travel further out to sea, catching more whaling ships on recorded videotape to later show to the proper authorities. Her parents had thought themselves heroes, and to Joi, they were.

But they paid for their goodness with their lives.

Weeks later the small boat was found capsized, bobbing in open water. When it was finally hauled out of the ocean and drained, the patrols found five bloated bodies that had been trapped inside. One had been an old fisherman, owner of the capsized boat. Two bodies had belonged to the camera men that always traveled with her parents and the final two had been the marine biologists themselves.

The fisherman's boat had been tampered with, causing it to capsize in the middle of the ocean with no hope for escape. The five bodies died drowning in the salty water of the Pacific Ocean.

Their deaths remained an unsolved case. No evidence, besides the tampered boat, was discovered that could prove the unfortunate deaths to be homicide. The tapes were gone and justice was never served. The only reason why she knew how her parents died was because of her mother keeping in constant contact with Ming Yue.

Joi didn't want to pity herself.

The girl who had lost both her parents to their life's work had traveled across the sea from China to the United States, where she was taken in by her mother's sister and her husband. They had been the only sane in all the insanity. They became her new focus, her new strength. Ming Yue and Joao Angel Di Paolos became her new family. The young woman didn't know what her life would have been like without them in it. She might have lived her days in an orphanage, she might have been lost to the billions of inhabitants in China. It was a humbling thought.

She remembered how when she first came to her aunt and uncle, she would spend most nights crying or calling out for her mother. Her mother never came, only making her cry harder into the night. Once, her aunt had found her under her bed after coming into her room to check on her.

"_What are you doing under there, Joi Li_?" Ming Yue had asked her niece, a motherly instinct having taken over her. She had not liked seeing the child shaking and trembling, backed up into a corner under her bed like a wounded animal.

Joi had not responded, but Ming Yue had managed to draw her out from under the bed. Together they sat atop of the bed, huddled together under the pink covers. Shifting the bangs of Joi's hair, Ming Yue spoke to her in soothing Cantonese (the dialect Joi's father had been born speaking, her mother later adopting it as well), _"Do you wish to hear how I met your uncle?"_

The little girl had been curious as to the pale blue and wide size of Joao Angel's eyes upon meeting him for the first time, wondering why he didn't look very Chinese. So, being curious, Joi nodded and her aunt had weaved a wonderful story of how a mysterious and foreign man from Portugal, her uncle, had arrived in Macau, China many years ago. Hearing that her uncle had been to her birth city, Joi had asked enthusiastically, forgetting her grief and loneliness, why he had gone to Macau.

Ming Yue explained that Macau was generally inhabited by the Portuguese, the foreign people having established a wide trading commune and that they were also providers of technological advances to the people. Joao Angel had arrived in Macau to further his technological and astrological pursuits. He lived in Macau for a year before traveling around China, eventually landing in a small village in the Hunan province where Ming Yue and Joi's mother had been born. Ming Yue, a sixteen-year-old girl and nine years his junior, had fallen in love with the Cantonese-speaking Portuguese man.

Joi had giggled into her hand when her aunt sighed dreamily, _"He was spectacular, that European man." _Her smile had faltered for a few moments after recalling her memories, "_He will always be spectacular to me," _this she whispered to her niece.

It wasn't until she was ten-years-old that Joi found out that her uncle had been diagnosed with myotonic muscular dystrophy, a disease that basically weakens and eats away at muscles over time and, depending on the rate of advancement of the disease, can cause an early death because of respiratory degeneration. Her uncle wasn't as advanced in his disease, but it kept him frail and withered where once he had been a lively and vigorous man. It was slowly, but surely, killing him.

"_I married that foreign man against my parent's wishes. We moved to Portugal and then came here to Maxville. I opened up my restaurant with him by my side, always encouraging my dreams. You'll see the Paper Lantern soon and I know you will love it, Joi Li."_

And she had loved it. The moment she had stepped into the _Paper Lantern_, she had felt right at home. She felt like she was in Macau, walking by vendors selling delicious smelling foods on market streets. The nostalgia was welcomed and cherished.

Her uncle greatly reminded her of her mother. His gentleness was so like hers that Joi wondered if he was in fact her blood uncle and her aunt had been someone else's sister. Her aunt's brazen personality, bordering on biting, was a working progress to get used to, but Joi had loved that woman from the moment she had held her and told her stories of her younger years.

Joi had eventually gotten over the murder of her parents and had settled down in the small town of Maxville. The pain and loneliness was replaced with the warmth of having her aunt and uncle by her side, the two giving her the love that they could never give their own children.

Joi couldn't help but feel her spirits lift radiantly. She was still standing by the window of her apartment, the sun warming her clothed back as she looked towards the sleeping man that needed the same strength and stability she had needed when she was but a parentless child.

And Joi laughed softly to herself, remembering the last part of the conversation her aunt had had with her.

"_Now, Joi Li, it is very late. Time to go to sleep, I will see you in the morning_." As Ming Yue neared her niece's door, she heard the little girl call out to her. _Auntie._

"_Auntie,"_ six-year-old Joi had called out in Cantonese, _"I like blue, not pink."_

Ming Yue just laughed and promised the little girl a blue comforter for her bed next time.

~/\\~

The sleeping pyrokinetic was having the strangest of dreams.

It had started with him walking casually through the streets of Maxville. In his dream, for he knew it was a dream because of the fogged quality of the realm, it was broad daylight and many people were walking by him on the sidewalk. Warren noticed the community park nearing and felt his legs detouring towards the park's entrance. The weather was wrong; it was far too warm for fall. In his dream it must have been summer.

The sounds of laughing children and adults yelling out for them to be careful permeated the hot air. Warren watched in a daze as the children ran around wildly, playing tag with each other. A mother was swinging her toddler on one of the swings and a father was playing catch with his son. Bikes whizzed by him as older kids raced each other, cutting through the grass to get ahead.

It was a normal day in Maxville.

And then he had felt it. The never-ending and consuming flames of his fire had begun to lick at his arms. Panicking, Warren felt more than heard himself yelling at the citizens to run, to get away from him, but they didn't hear him. They continued as they were, the children continued playing, as their parents continued to watch over them. Warren tried to run from them, but his legs were glued to the spot.

The angry red fire began climbing up his arms, touching his shoulders and continuing its advancement, engulfing his whole body in its heat. He tried calling it back to him, tried forcing his power to submit to his command and become nothing again, but the fire only strengthened and continued to burn.

Knowing that it was a dream meant nothing to him, even if those people weren't real, he couldn't let them die because of him. He kept trying to overpower his own mindless and hungry ability, but his efforts were useless against it.

He knew that those laughing children weren't going to make it.

The fire was now touching the tip of his toes and spreading outwards, the flames immediately burning the green grass that he stood over. It continued traveling through the blades like wildfire, burning everything on sight.

Warren looked around him helplessly and noticed a silent figure leaning against an old oak tree. The shade of the large tree blocked Warren from seeing the person's face, but he knew immediately who it was. A rage like no other flowed through his veins and only managed to further fuel the path of destruction heading towards the unsuspecting citizens in the park.

The figure stood there in the shadows, arms crossed over their chest and staring intently at the wild pyro. Warren, not wanting to see the deaths that would surely follow, closed his eyes to wait it out.

The screams never came.

Instead, the pyro felt a familiar body press against his own. He felt delicate arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to their body. The stranger held him to them, resting their head against his shoulder. Warren could feel the person's breath feather against his enflamed neck and he wondered how could this person touch him if he was covered in fire.

Opening his eyes, he noticed that the park, the citizens and the shadow of the man resting under the oak tree had all disappeared. Instead, he stood in a lavender field, the rich, purple stalks of flowers reaching his elbows and calming his senses. The sky overhead was a brilliant blue and was littered with soft-looking, white clouds. Even the sun was gentle with its warmth as it touched his skin.

Almost instantly, Warren felt the fires receding. It coursed back into him, the flames locking away once again under his reign. The stranger still held him to them and he felt at peace with himself for once after so long of running from his curse. A comforting tingle began growing inside his chest, spreading throughout his whole being. His once tense posture melted and he felt unbelievable gratitude towards the stranger that still held him to them.

He could hear the swaying of the lavender plants as the wind toyed with them, the gentle rocking filling him with content. The stranger's breath ghosted over his flesh again, making him shiver under such attack. Warren shifted within the stranger's arms, somehow bringing their body into even more contact with his own. He felt distinct feminine breasts pressed against his chest and his own breath hitched at the touch.

He felt the stranger slowly release their hold on him and take a step back. Warren took in her pale complexion, her long raven-colored hair, her parted peach-colored lips, and her dark, almond-shaped eyes. She was glowing serenely, dressed in a simple white dress that merely enforced her purity of spirit. Her eyes held such ancient wisdom and he felt her looking right through him. She belonged there in those rolling lavender fields.

She reached out her hand and took his cheek into her palm, gently touching his skin with her fingers. Slowly bringing her face closer to his own, she placed her forehead against his brow, the bump of her nose brushing against the curve of his lips.

Warren watched through half-lidded eyes as Joi opened her mouth and whispered in her native Cantonese, "_Wake up, Warren."_

Warren Peace awoke from his strange dream and found a mug of hot coffee being dangled leisurely under his nose. Following with his eyes the white hand holding the mug of rich smelling coffee, Warren took in the soft skin of their forearm and ran his eyes over their exposed collarbone. When he looked upon their face, the young woman smiled gently and rubbed the hand that had been resting on his forearm in a soothing circle, "Good morning, grumpy."

A grunt was her reply, making Joi laugh. "I have to go to the bank this morning. I was just waking you in case you had somewhere to be today. Here, I made you some coffee."

She removed the hand resting against his clothed forearm and held out the mug for him to take. Sitting up groggily, Warren accepted the offered caffeine and thanked her quietly. His mind was still reeling from the strange dream he had just woken up from. He stared at her then, tilting his head to the side to get a read on her. He found nothing out of place, though he did feel oddly strange.

"I had a spare key to the apartment, you should hold on to it," the young Asian woman said, placing the bronze key on the coffee table. Not noticing his silent scrutiny, she turned away from him and walked towards her apartment door, her cotton print sundress skimming her knees, allowing him to see her exposed calves. Opening the door, she stepped outside and turned once more to the pyrokinetic. "See you later tonight," she called out, closing and locking the door behind her.

Warren Peace sat there for a moment, running through the last images of his dream. Joi had saved him in his dream. She had embraced him when he had been surrounded in fire and she hadn't felt uncomfortable, not one inch of her had been burnt by his fire. What did that mean?

And why had Baron Battle been in his dream? What was his significance? Warren had known immediately that the concealed man under the shade of the oak tree had been the notorious supervillain, though how he knew this was a mystery to him.

It has been more than nineteen years since the young pyro had last seen his father and it hadn't been in the best of circumstances to say the least.

Deciding to banish thoughts of his father from his mind, Warren drank deeply from the mug of coffee Joi had prepared for him. The dark blended liquid warmed his throat and tasted heavenly against his tongue. He drank every last sip and sat up from the couch, standing to take the cup into the kitchen. He rinsed out the mug in the sink and looked over at the wall clock ticking away the seconds.

11:05.

Sighing, the pyro tousled his already tangled hair. The Hippie would soon be upon him.

~/\\~

Author's Note: Don't worry loves, Warren will be reunited with his mother! I would never be so cruel as to keep those two from being a family again. Besides, his mama has suffered enough as it is, don't you agree?

I will be describing his mother later on in the story. You all know that she had been a superhero before her husband became a villain and not much else was said about her. Well, my imagination has decided to forego mystery and detail her for your reading pleasure. Joi already mentioned briefly that Warren's mother was of French and Native American descent. I hope you like her!

Joi finally reveals her parent's murder. You also get the side story on how Joi's aunt and uncle met and how Joi came to live with them in Maxville.

A little foreshadowing with the dream? Maybe…maybe not. You'll have to keep reading to find out! Hopefully the story is going at a good pace for you all. Romance will come, but the mood has to be set first (plus a good wait makes it all worth it).


	9. Ch 9: The Flying Green Buggy

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.9: The Flying Green Buggy

Since Warren didn't have much variation in his wardrobe, which solely consisted of work clothes and the sweats and t-shirt he had slept in, the pyro had donned on the black pants and white shirt he wore for work. Having combed through his hair with his fingers to bring some sort of order to the unruly mess, he waited standing outside the apartment complex for his ride.

Within minutes, a lime green Volkswagen Beetle pulled up to the curb and the driver honked the shrill little horn. The tinted window on the passenger side lowered and, from where he stood, Warren could make out the flaming red hair that belonged to one Layla Stronghold.

Raising a brow at the car, the young man walked towards it. When he was within hearing distance, he called out to the driver, "What happened to the Chevy?"

When he had taken a seat, Layla raised the window again and ordered him to put on his seat belt. "The Chevrolet is Will's, actually. He uses it for work. This here is my baby. Why, do you have a problem with it?"

"Nope, it suits you." It was rather comical watching the very aesthetic young woman driving at all, much more so with her protruding womb almost touching the steering wheel.

"It saves on fuel, unlike that hunk of metal my husband drives. Now, let's see, which button makes the car invisible again? Oh here it is…now if I can just find the flying mode on this thing," she muttered under her breath, looking around the grey dashboard for the correct button she was searching for.

The little green car was compact and had Warren's long legs straining for circulation and his neck was twisted in such an angle as to allow headroom. The inside smelled like baked apple cinnamon, Layla's distinct scent, and it was littered with numerous little buttons all along the interior. Warren felt like he was in Willy Wonka's newest invention: The Beetle car, much more inconspicuous than a flying elevator on any day.

He watched as the sprite-like woman searched for the right button. She yelled out a brief, "Aha!" when she found the correct one and proceeded to press it. The little invisible car sprouted wings out of nowhere and Layla revved up the engine, changing the gears to 'Flying Mode.'

The red-head turned to him, "You know…I've never actually _flown_ my car before. New experiences for everything though, right?"

Warren couldn't help but want to slap a hand over his face, "You're going to test run your _flying_ car for the first time when you don't have your _flying_ husband here to save you if the car decides to crash and burn? Nice one, Hippie."

"Hey! I'll have you know that this car is perfectly reliable, we're not going to crash and burn, like you say!"

Crossing his arms over his chest, the seat belt hindering him a bit, Warren gave her a disbelieving look, "You're going to put our lives in the hands of this insect?"

"Just watch me, Hot Head, just watch me."

Layla released the brake pedal and hit the gas, feeling the car instantly slam forward. If Warren hadn't been wearing his seat belt, he was almost positive that he would have hit his head on the dashboard. The small, girly car drove forward and picked up good speed before lifting up into the air. It glided about five feet off the ground for a moment before catching enough wind under its wings to rise higher. Layla pulled down on the steering wheel, which had become somehow like a pilot's, and the car rose higher and higher until they were far above houses and nearing the low-leveled clouds floating by.

The exhaust pipe was rigged with nitrous to help keep the car airborne and Warren could feel it pushing the car faster and faster through the sky. They flew for several minutes until the flying high school came into focus.

The floating institution hadn't changed much over the years. The grounds were still kept impeccably clean; the grass always mowed frequently. Warren could see the ant-size bodies of students wondering the school's property, waving at fellow classmates and some were practicing their powers down by the trackfield. Warren assumed that since they weren't in class that it was lunchtime for the students of Sky High.

"Every time I come back here, I always remember how it used to be. You know, Zach, Ethan, Magenta, Will, you, me, just being kids. Sharing our lunch period together and having no worries beyond that of what grade you'd get in Mad Science. One thing I did miss about freshman year and the whole hero/sidekick prejudice was the fact that hero support did not have to take Professor Medulla's class; now_ that_ was true villainy. Only Ethan ever liked that class, and possibly you Mister Smarty-Pants." Layla laughed when Warren gave her a sharp look meant to intimidate her, but she had never felt intimidated by the prickly individual. If anything, he looked hilarious to her. Sighing, she continued her reminiscence, "Those were wonderful times; everyone together. Now, well…I guess things just change. Look at me, already a mommy, with another bundle on the way."

Warren snorted lightly, "That's because you and Stronghold breed like rabbits."

"Wait until you start breeding 'like rabbits,' Hot Head."

The pyro stiffened and looked away as the sprite-like woman parked her monstrosity of a car in an available parking space. The wings that had allowed the car to fly retired back to its previous location and the invisibility most likely waned as well with the landing, allowing the car to be seen.

The landing itself had been shaky at best, but no life-threatening situations had presented themselves, even with Layla's lack of experience in flying her Beetle.

"I'm not," Warren said after sometime had passed between them.

Confused, Layla lowered her hand from the handle of her car and turned her body (as best she could, what with her protruding womb making it rather difficult) to face her companion, "What? What do you mean by your not?"

Tracing long fingers through the fabric of his pant leg, Warren lowered his eyes to his bent knees, brow scrunched up in thought, "I am not having any children, Layla, not while I am like this. Maybe, someday, but I'm not holding any hope for that one. Some people are just best off as they are."

Layla, being the kind-hearted woman that she was, couldn't stand seeing her friend in such turmoil. She had merely been jesting with him. She hadn't thought that he would take it to heart, shunning himself from having such a simple joy as being a parent would bring because of fear; a fear she both understood and wished she could help him be free of. He didn't deserve this life. He deserved to be happy.

Placing a friendly hand over the one on his knee, Layla smiled radiantly and continued to feed him the hope and courage he so desperately needed for himself, "Don't be so gloomy, Hot Head, you forget that Ethan is only a few feet away. You'll see, everything will be alright."

Warren really wanted to believe her, truly he did. So far, everything did seem to be getting better. From the night when he had been 'discovered,' to the now, things had been looking up, if only in miniscule parts at a time. Being reunited with his two greatest friends and the girl he had come to realize was one as well, Warren could see that maybe something _could_ be done about this curse and maybe he could be normal again. Well…as normal as a fire-manipulating man can be.

Trying to regain his waning character, Warren shrugged off Layla's hand and made to open the passenger car door, "Having children has only made you fall more and more into your flower-power, Hippie. Instead of talking, isn't Popsicle waiting for us?"

Stepping out of the uncomfortably cramped car, Warren stretched out his legs and groaned in alleviation at having his legs once more circulating blood. The numbness receded and he cracked his neck, relieving some of the stiffness that had entered his shoulders.

Layla exited her car as well, showing no signs of discomfort as the pyro had done when stepping out of the small vehicle. "I can't believe I flew my car! Wait until I tell Will, he's always worried too much about my driving."

"Maybe he had a good reason to."

"Now you're just being irrational. You were present when I flew; I did pretty well for my first time. For a moment there, I had forgotten how to land, but I managed!" Layla had waddled her way towards the other side of the car and had taken the pyro by the arm, "Now be a dear and help an extremely pregnant woman lift ungodly heavy things from her trunk."

Warren shook his head and looked down at the red-haired woman, "Do I have a choice?"

Her sapphire eyes twinkled with humor, "Nope." She then proceeded to drag him towards the rear of her car, popping open the trunk with little effort on her part. Pointing at something within the black abyss that compromised as her trunk, she motioned for Warren to get it for her.

"I hope what you have in here are presents and not coal, St. Nicholas," the pyro muttered as he hefted the sack over his one shoulder. The weight was merely an irritation and he wondered what the damn Hippie harbored in her would-be clown car.

"If you must know, they are special salves I make for Ethan's father. The poor man has severe arthritis and complains about it to no end. Medication doesn't seem to help and Ethan wouldn't like him taking drugs anyways (honestly, I think medication only does more harm than good). It does seem that my concoction actually helps alleviate his pain to a dull ache, at least. Every time I come to see Ethan for checkups, I always bring a bag of the stuff."

They walked as Layla explained about Ethan's father, Warren feeling the jars that contained the salves bumping against his back. They were passing by the school now. The student's meandering around the campus took no notice of the two adults waltzing through the grounds to reach the clinic. The building itself was similar in structure to that of the high school, but the large crest of a staff with wings and entwining snakes, the Caduceus, distinguished it as a medical practice.

They walked, arm-in-arm with Warren holding the bag over his left shoulder, towards the doors and together they entered the small building. The smell of antiseptic cleaners was predominate once stepping inside; no bacteria or virus had a chance in hell in surviving that toxin. The inside, however, did not resemble a cold and impersonal hospital. Instead, the room had been decorated in light colors with various furniture placed strategically within the waiting room. Soft music played in the background, tunes that could possibly put someone to sleep if they were stuck waiting too long for their name to be called.

Letting go of his arm, Layla walked forward and rapped with her knuckles on the small, fogged-glass window used commonly by nurses and secretaries at doctor offices. The window opened immediately after, presenting Warren with a sight for sore eyes.

Nurse Spex was sitting before them, her impeccable presence disturbed by the smidgen of mustard on her cheek. Her gnarled hands were occupied with a napkin and she finally wiped away at the sauce on her face. Next to her, she had a large sub; apparently her lunch.

It was the first time, for Warren, seeing the old crone after so many years. Not much was different about her. She still looked ancient, wearing the same white uniform she had always worn at Sky High. Her bifocals made her eyes larger, her face swallowed by the large size of them. Though at times a little creepy and unorthodox, the nurse was welcoming and treated each patient with respect.

Sweeping a tongue through her gums, (making sure no food was present on her teeth) Nurse Spex smiled with her thinning lips at the two before her. "The doctor was expecting you two. It is nice to see you in good health, Mrs. Stronghold. Ah, Mr. Peace, it has been some time. You look…haggard. Are you quite alright?"

Nurse Spex was never one to lie.

Deciding to distract the aging nurse, Layla slightly stepped forward, "You know, Nurse Spex, my baby tends to be active alot at night and sometimes I don't go to sleep until the wee hours of the morning. He, or she, likes to turn all over the place and I was wondering…"

Nurse Spex waved her off, "No worries, dear. It is quite natural for the baby to get a little fussy when the due date is nearing. They have to get ready for the birthing after all. Maybe if you bathe in warm water and submerge in it for a while each night, the babe may relax enough to let you sleep. Water tends to cause homeostasis, a balance, when still in the womb."

Layla breathed a sigh of relief, "I was worried there for a second. Abigail never was fussy like her sibling seems to be. Thank you, Nurse Spex. I am sorry to cut this short, but we really do need to see Ethan. Is he in the office? I don't want to intrude on his lunch if he is eating."

"That young man rarely eats while at work. It is no wonder he is so thin!" Nurse Spex's face became animated when irked, Warren noticed. The old croon seemed to have a soft spot for the Popsicle.

She proceeded to buzz them into the clinical part of the office. "I doubt he is eating, more than likely expecting your arrivals. Go on ahead and it was good to see the two of you, especially you, Mr. Peace. I hope the good doctor can help you with whatever you are going through."

Giving her a startled glance over his shoulder as he and Layla disappeared behind the door, Warren wondered how the ancient and gnarled nurse could possibly know that something was wrong with him. Had someone told her? No, that wasn't possible. The only ones who knew were the Strongholds.

"Don't think too much into, Warren. Nurse Spex has that uncanny quality to her at times. Though, the thing about the soaking in warm water won't help much since this rascal prefers it when I wake up in the middle of the night, climb outside to the balcony, and have a tree branch rock me back and forth. I think he, or she, just likes being a nuisance to their mommy's sleep." She said this affectionately, rubbing at her swelling womb wistfully. "Maybe when you are born, little one, I'll make a swing just for us. I think the maple has had enough of rocking pregnant women."

Warren raised a brow at her, "So why then did you ask for her advice?"

Smiling a secret smile, Layla shook her head, causing her flaming red hair to move along with her head. The chin-length strands stilled when she stopped her movements, "Oh, just a distraction."

"You sure sounded like you needed the advice."

"Well, I am being awoken every night for a nighttime rocking by my still unborn child. And that maple sure gives nasty splinters," Layla replied, bobbing her head again. "Come on, Ethan is waiting and he is a busy man."

"Yeah, I can see that." Layla linked her arm with his, while he shifted the weight on his shoulder around to flex his fingers. They made short work of the long corridor and walked into an open office that contained the usual appliances regular doctors kept in their practices. What _wasn't_ seen in MD offices was the towering man before them.

He had a medical book open before him. Like Nurse Spex said, Ethan Hawk had not been eating, but studying further into genetics. Before him stood two of his eldest friends, Layla Stronghold and he couldn't believe his eyes, but yes, Warren Peace was in his office, standing there beside the red-haired woman.

Closing the book he had been reading and taking a tentative step forward, Ethan smiled a crooked smile. That smile triggered in Warren's head. The man before him was that short, rather nerdy kid that had often hero-worshipped him and Will in the past. The same kid that hadn't even reached his shoulder and wore thickly framed glasses all throughout high school.

Well, this was a surprise.

The once short kid was now taller than him by a good three inches or so. His hair was currently braided in tight, zigzagging cornrolls all throughout his scalp and his steamed clothing showed that he was no longer as scraggly as he had been, though he was still thin and long-limbed. Foregoing those ridiculously thick glasses, he was now sporting frameless eyewear. This man was very different, but very similar to the boy he had known in Sky High. He had grown up and become a man.

"When you contacted me, Layla, and said you had someone that needed help, never in a million years would I have thought to think of Warren Peace." The deep baritone of his voice, so different from the squeaky, mouse-like pitch of his youth, startled the pyro.

Layla walked right up to the towering, African-American man and gave him a big, warming hug. He hugged her shoulders, his dark eyes never leaving the gaze of the man before him. "I thought it best for you to see him for yourself, Ethan. And has your hair changed from last I saw you?"

Touching the tight braids at his scalp, Ethan sighed, "You know how Marie gets when she's near my hair. Her hands just can't help themselves, even though she should be tired after working all those hours at the salon." Stepping away from Layla, Ethan made to near the pyro. "It has been a long time, Warren."

A dark hand was presented for Warren to take.

Looking into the black eyes of the man before him, Warren could feel no ill-intent. Ethan had always been a brainy kid, and in so being, wasn't very violent in nature. This career suited him, Warren thought. He looked every bit as he should, something Warren wished he himself could feel.

The good doctor was rather curious of this Warren. He waited there patiently for the man to take his hand. Would he accept this act of friendship, and in so doing, renew their lost amicability? He sure hoped so. Layla had told him that the individual in question was in danger of themself and needed the assistance that he could give. He was more than willing to help him, if he allowed him to.

Lowering the bag over his shoulder and settling it on the floor, Warren Peace took the good doctor's hand into his own and shook it twice. "Your old man sure needs his own delivery boy, Popsicle."

After a moment, the throaty, rich sound of Ethan's laughter filled the small room. "My, Hot Head, you haven't changed one bit."

Layla Stronghold beamed at the two men before her, as Warren laughed right along with him.

~/\\~

Author's Note: Blue-Punch-Buggy! Well, technically green in this case.

No offense to Volkswagen Beetles! Just thought it would be funny to have our favorite pyro cramped into one.

Oooo…what will happen next? Keep reading to find out!

When Layla and Warren were heading to the school, Layla told him that what she missed from freshman year was not having to take Mad Science, well if you remember from the movie, Principal Powers was planning on abolishing the whole hero/hero support discrimination. So, technically, in the following years, Sky High was no longer separated and all students trained and studied together.

MD- medical doctor

And who is Marie? Any one got a good guess?

**Special thanks to my readers and reviewer's (Talis Ruadair, Kaisaan Greenleaf, and Cherry-888)! And special thanks to my friend, Lily Havock, who was the one who got me into writing all those years ago. You guys are my green tea! (that is one high honor indeed)**


	10. Ch 10: Blood Work and a Hypothesis

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.10: Blood Work and a Hypothesis

"Please, take a seat." Ethan gestured to twin chairs leaning against the wall, near the examination table. He himself took a seat before them in his swiveling stool.

When they were seated, he continued, "Now, as much as I enjoy seeing you again, Warren, I don't think this was a social visit. Are you in trouble?" He asked bluntly, his dark eyes focusing solely on the pyro.

Warren could tell why the once hero support was so good at his job. He felt as if he were being inspected under a microscope; poked at and prodded. The doctor's unwavering gaze locked with his and waited with a practiced patience for his response.

The troubled man felt a reassuring hand land on his forearm. Warren turned his head to the side, catching the nod the red-haired woman sent his way. She trusted the good doctor and was expecting him to trust him as well with his secretes. _This is Ethan,_ she seemed to enforce, _you can trust Ethan._

Sighing, Warren turned back to the man before him. "Yes," he answered, starting to feel the slivers of his power beginning to strengthen once again. It was still too weak to cause any real damage, but if he had learned anything from his time as a wanderer was to be paranoid when it came to his ability. Never doubt that a small, insignificant spark can ignite and explode at any given second.

Rubbing his chin and lips with his long fingers, Ethan's eyes narrowed, "I will need you to disclose any and all information that you know of this issue, Warren. If I am to help you, I need to know everything. Everything from as far back as you can remember."

Tight-lipped as he was, Warren felt a slight panic overtake him. It was one thing telling Will and Layla what had truly happened to him in the comfort and safety of Joi's home, it was another to tell all to a doctor, one who had the trained impersonal way of speaking to you, as if you were merely a patient. Well, technically, he was now a patient, even if the good doctor had once been a friend.

Noticing the slight anxiety that seemed to transpire across the pyro's face, Ethan made a reassuring gesture. "Warren," he began slowly, "I want nothing more than to help you, but I _need_ to know."

And Warren knew that this man could be trusted. He had known it instantly, but he couldn't help himself. For too long he had mistrusted the world. He could trust, at times, the slip of a girl that had found him in his pitiful state. He could trust, more reassuringly, the man he had called his true friend and his wife, the woman he had liked (though he never expressed) from the very beginning of knowing her. The couple had an easy relationship and a way of making him feel a part of them, without having to enforce it.

Taking a deep breath, the pyrokinetic nodded. "It's a long story."

Chuckling, the dark-skinned man leaned forward in his stool, "I tend to enjoy those."

And so, with the prompting of a certain pregnant Hippie, Warren retold his tale of woes to the good doctor. He began with the first episodes he experienced, depicting how he had become aflame while asleep, losing control in his inhibited state. He expressed his trouble reigning in his powers and his final decision to find help. Not knowing what else to do, he left Maxville without a word and traveled to South America, into the Venezuelan rainforests.

There he met a tribe of indigenous peoples, ones who knew little about his condition. He left them and continued traveling as a vagabond throughout the Southern American continent with little faith in the characters he met along the way. Plenty of times he had been beaten or pick-pocketed, though he had very little to begin with. How he survived for as long as he did was a mystery even to himself. He would manage to find kind people every now and then who gave him some food, or housed him for the night. Other than that though, he mainly slept under the stars if he couldn't find shelter.

The cultural differences and language barriers hindered him greatly in his years of travel, but he hadn't given up and continued forth. It was in Brazil that he had any breakthrough. An old woman had spoken about taking a ship out of port that was traveling to Spain. Deciding to take the woman's advice, he managed to stowaway. Of course he had been caught, and the rough sailors had decided a little match would decide if he deserved to remain aboard or tossed oversea.

The fire had been strong then and he had feared that if angered, if provoked, he would have burned and sunken that ship right into the Atlantic Ocean. When confronted with a brute of a man, a sailor who used a mixture of boxing and Brazilian jujitsu, he had been beaten so severely, that his body had been bruised and bloody for a good week or so. The Brazilian sailor had, of course, won the match. Warren just couldn't bring himself to use his power against a citizen, even if it meant his early demise.

He had fought with everything he had, punching and dodging the bigger man's flying fists, but the Brazilian's lock-hold moves eventually brought him down. He had been a mere eighteen-year-old boy, afraid and confused over his own growing and consuming power. The man was an experienced fighter, a truly intimidating monster of a man. He had no chance in hell of winning his rite of passage across the Atlantic.

Imagine his surprise when the rowdy men had congratulated him on his small victory. Apparently, no one had lasted more than a few minutes against O Touro, The Bull. His name came from the tattoo of a raging bull, bloody stakes protruding from its hide, located on his back. No one knew the man's real name, but as Warren later discovered, O Touro had lived a life of solitude out at sea since he was a boy and wasn't as wrathful as he had believed him to be.

The sailors had taken him in and he was glad that they had not thrown him overboard. Warren noticed that they themselves were like family, a band of brothers that operated like a close-knit colony of ants. He himself was given duties to perform. Eventually, after much travel oversea, they reached the port of Barcelona, where he bid farewell to his sea brothers and continued on his quest.

Throughout Europe, not much came to pass. He was shunned more, and he remembered the hunger and cold he suffered on the streets of Paris and Berlin. While staggering through Austria-Hungary, he had finally lost it. The fire had ruptured from his weakening hold and consumed him. He had been in rural pastures at the time, no lives had been taken, and for this he thanked the God he hadn't known existed. When he came to, the fields had been burnt, like wild fire lashing out at random, and he had been smoking and sizzling from the aftermath.

On his continued travels, the episodes seemed to only take over more frequently. He had ten years to try and figure out what was causing his loss of control, but no one seemed to know, and he also couldn't go around asking just anybody on the streets for assistance. He would have been incarcerated or murdered like a rabid dog in broad daylight. He had to be subtle, but not too subtle, or else he would go completely unnoticed, thus finding nothing.

He had the most luck in Asia. By that time it had already been a good seven years of traveling around the western side of the planet. The Indian and Thai peoples had the most advancement and he had attempted to train his mind in the ways they had encouraged him to practice. Their methods ranged, but centrally focused on inner stability. In order to find balance, first the mind must be strengthen and able to reign in control. The power itself is a manifestation of the strength of the mind, if you can wield the mind, you can wield the fire.

And damn did he train. Every day was a day to focus on honing in those wild and rampant fires that fueled his unstable mind. For a while, the training seemed to be working. The fire wasn't as persistent as it had been before. He looked to this favorably and was already looking forward to returning home.

But then the dam of unrestrained power had forced its way through him and he had burnt down the home where the ones helping him resided. He hadn't murdered any person as of far, but nothing could prepare him for each attack to his sanity he received when overcome by that raging, hungry flame of destruction.

Ashamed of himself, he had fled and later decided, after nine years of having left, to return to Maxville to find the help of one man. The only man he had thought could help him save himself. He wasn't looking forward to it and, in the back of his mind, he doubted the man would even consider helping him.

But he had to give it a shot. He hadn't come all this way to finally give up now and allow the fire to always win. Within the span of a year, Warren had found the means to travel back to North America and had finally returned to his birth city.

The night of his return, the fire had taken him again. The heat had fueled him, hurt him, causing him absolute agony at the intensity of such provocative and unadulterated burning. When it had all been over, he had stumbled into that alleyway, weak and still frightened, even after so many years of experiencing the same thing over and over again.

And there he had been found by the one who would bring him closer to salvation.

The night that Joi had sheltered him, taken him in, he had still felt that dangerous and ravenous fire building and building inside of him, but it had been different. It wasn't as dangerous as it once had been. But, not being one to take any chances when it came to his power, he had tried to flee again. This time, he had been stopped by two very familiar individuals who had been only too eager to show him exactly what he needed.

When Warren finished recounting all that he could remember, he sat back and closed his eyes. The pain and anguish was too much at times. He had remained strong, even with so much weighing on his shoulders, even with something so powerful trying to destroy him, and he truly hated his power as of then. He loathed the fire that fueled his blood and turned him into a mindless beast. He would gladly sacrifice his gift, his curse, for the life a normal man if it meant no more running; if it meant peace.

Layla's hand hadn't moved from his forearm and the gestured was appreciated. Throughout his retelling of painful memories, she would squeeze his arm, before relaxing her hold again. Her eyes had never wavered from his face and she truly felt for the man she had always loved as a friend.

Ethan had remained quiet and thoughtful throughout Warren's summarization of his life these past ten years. Pulling off his glasses, the good doctor kneaded the flesh of cartilage between his eyes and sighed tiredly. "That was some tale."

"Tell me about it," the pyro responded with repressed bitterness, opening his own eyes to focus on the man with the strange power of melting into a puddle.

"Ethan…do you have any idea what could be happening? Why he loses control like he does?" Layla asked softly, her sapphire eyes shining wetly with unshed tears. It pained her deeply, even now when she was already aware of his struggles, how her friend had suffered.

Ethan shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I haven't. I have heard of wild supers, supers who go on rampages and only know how to kill and destroy, but they are aware of what they are doing. They _choose_ to murder, to plunder all. I have never seen this before, not in all my years of being a doctor or studying up on the mutant DNA of supers."

"I don't care if my disease is singular or not, I just want to know if there is a way to stop it. Can you help me or not?" Warren's expression at the moment was of a man being told he was going to die. He wasn't expecting lies, just the cold, hard truth. Will he survive, or not?

The young doctor replaced his glasses and gave the pyro an even stare. "In all honesty, I do not know if I can help you, Warren. As I said, I have never heard of someone losing control as you do. I can only guarantee you that I will do whatever is within my power to help you. I swore upon the Hippocratic Oath that as a medical doctor I would help my patients and that is what I plan to do."

Warren eyed him warily, but then gave a firm nod. "What then must I do?"

Standing, Ethan began rummaging through the medical tools he kept within his office. "I have a hypothesis, though I am not sure yet of its accuracy. I believe that your blood will give us some answers as to why, out of nowhere, your powers seemed to amount into what they are today. I remember your complete and total control in high school, Warren. The amount of command you held over such an unstable element was memorable. Why that control was lost, leaving you victim to your own power is a mystery that only your blood will give to us.

"Warren, I need you to be ok with the probability that I may need Professor Medulla's supposition from time to time. He is an accomplished geneticist and would know much more on DNA components than I would. He could help us as well, but I will only request his opinion if you agree to it."

The idea of more people knowing about his 'issue' was not at all pleasant, but he couldn't argue that Ethan was asking for his permission and he himself knew just how incredibly intelligent the Mad Science teacher was. He had even thought that it would be a good idea for the large-brained Professor to take a look at his condition as well.

"That's fine," he replied after a moment of thought. "So, you need to draw some blood, right?"

Nodding, Ethan beckoned him to stand and take a seat on the clinical bed. When Warren was sitting, the uncomfortable blue sanitation paper crinkling under his bum, Ethan began speaking, "Yes and I also wish to perform some regulatory exams, including showcasing your powers in a controlled room. I need to record just how hot your fire becomes when unleashed. Your power no longer ignites only on your arms, correct?"

Shaking his head, Warren's full lips pulled down in a dark frown, "No, now practically my entire body gets engulfed. It happened gradually though. Over the years, the fire gained more of my flesh to consume. It was slow, and hurt like hell."

Ethan's brow rose at that. "So, the fire has hurt its host? Superficially or no?"

"His arms are all cut up and scarred over, Ethan. It's just…horrible." Layla shivered at only picturing the jagged lines that covered most of the pyro's tan skin.

Turning his head back to his patient, Ethan grabbed a hold of his wrist and dragged his arm closer to his line of sight. And Layla had not been kidding, they were horrendous! The angry welted flesh had long ago healed, but having never healed properly, the skin remained mutilated.

"Are there more?"

"Yes."

Tracing his eyes through the scars wrapping around the pyro's forearms, Ethan wondered how such a gift can cause such destruction to its own master. Though his own power wasn't nearly as intense as the fire-wielders, he had never experience such lost abandon from within himself. His power had never increased or decreased in strength, merely opting to remain as is.

At the blink of an eye, Ethan Hawk could dissolve his solid state of being for that of a liquid one and remain so for many hours on end. His power never tried to subdue him and he doubted if any other super had experienced such things. There was no evidence of it and he truly wanted to know why and how it was occurring now.

"I have tried to avoid powering up," Warren admitted, his eyes dropping to his twiddling thumbs on his lap.

"Have you given thought that maybe locking it away only fuels it more?"

"Trust me, Popsicle. Letting it out is worse than locking it away," Warren whispered. Straightening himself out, he stopped his fidgeting and allowed his hands to rest on his thighs. "Aren't you going to take my blood, Vamp?"

Cracking a wide smile, Ethan proceeded to glove up and take vial samples of the pyro's blood. Layla, who had been mostly quiet throughout the visit, had decided to step out and have a chat with Nurse Spex. In actuality, Layla just didn't like needles and couldn't stomach watching the indifferent young man take a needle to the arm as if it were merely an annoying mosquito.

When he was done, Ethan removed his soiled gloves and placed in a tray the three vials of blood he had collected from the pyro. Depositing the needle and rubber tubing in a sharp's container, Ethan stood again and began preparing paperwork. He was planning on documenting everything that transpired from here on in. All data would benefit the study. He needed to remain meticulous and take down all notes.

"Today, I believe, that we will forego testing your power. Let's just record your normal body functions, your blood pressure, your heart rate, your reflexes, and maybe a urine sample may benefit us as well. I wish to compare these normal functions when you are stable and when you are powered up. I am almost positive that they will be dramatically different from each other."

Nodding his agreement, Warren awaited instruction. He wasn't expecting for the good doctor to jam a piece of metal into his knee!

As was desired, the pyro's knee lifted slightly into the air before dropping down again. Ethan noted into his clipboard that the pyro's reflexes seemed to be in good order.

"You could have warned me, you know."

"The point of the exercise is to test your _reflexes_. There is no reason to _warn_ you," Ethan replied mechanically, his hand still taking down notes.

"You know, I think I liked you better as a nerd," Warren grumbled, rubbing at his abused knee. "And when you were short."

Lifting his eyes and pushing his glasses back up his nose, Ethan shrugged, not taking offense to the pyro's words. "I was wondering what that bruise on your face was, mind telling me about it?"

Self-consciously touching at his still bruised jaw where the brat had punched him, Warren growled, "This, well, that's another long story."

Raising a brow, the good doctor was thinking, _haven't we been through this already? _

"I'm listening."

~/\\~

Author's note: Well, there you have it! Warren has finally gone to see Ethan, but now he must wait to see what the good doctor can discover about his condition.

You also get more details on how Warren lived his life those long ten years.

When I was writing about O Touro, he faintly reminded me of Jose Arcadio (the son) from the novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. He became a sailor and later returned to his home in Macondo after many years at sea. What brought him to mind was the fact that he is also a big brute of a man.

O Touro- the bull, in Portuguese (language spoken by the Brazilians)

Hippocratic Oath- an oath that all physicians swear upon when entering medicine, ensuring that they will uphold the duties and code of ethics followed by Hippocrates, the Greek "Father of Medicine."


	11. Ch 11: The Triple Threat

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.11: The Triple Threat

Up, Up, Up in the dusty attic that had once been her home, a certain blonde superheroine was hefting boxes aside and unbelievably making the cluttered mess that much more cluttered. Sneezing a good three times, and rather loudly too, Julia Godfrey cursed under her breath as the evil dust bunnies continued to invade her lungs.

"Can't even breathe in this air without puncturing a lung. I swear if I sneeze one more time, I'm going to scream," she muttered angrily, shoving away at the hair falling into her eyes. "And why can't this hair stay out of my face?"

"Because it's long?"

Turning to the ones disrupting her space, the almost thirty-year-old woman very maturely rolled her eyes at the three little devils before her. "Didn't grandma tell you boys to stay downstairs? I'm on a very important mission and cannot be disturbed."

The three dark-haired boys looked at one another, silently communicating with each other using their triplet telepathy that all multi-birthed siblings seemed to share. Tilting her head to the side, Julia watched as her three-year-old nephews turned to her suddenly and cried out, "We'll help you, Auntie Julia!"

"As much as I love you little rascals, no."

"Aww, but why not?"

"We promise to be good!"

"Please, Auntie Julia!"

In unison, the three darlings cried out, "Pretty please, Auntie Julia!"

"With sugar on top!"

"And marshmallows!"

"And gumballs!"

"Alright! Alright! You can help me!" Eyeing the three of them, Freeze Girl finally sighed in defeat. "Just be careful with heavy or sharp things."

Nodding their agreement, the triplets moved closer to their aunt and proceeded to help her on her 'mission.'

Honestly, Julia didn't know why she was doing this. It was all that damn doctor's fault. He just had to go and pique her interest, didn't he? The dismissive way he had treated her had upset her more than she would have liked. He had even said that they had known each other, albeit he hadn't disclosed how, and still he had been ever the cold professional that his occupation entailed.

Even when he had asked her to unbutton the first four buttons of her shirt, he hadn't even blinked when he got a good look at the black lace containing her breasts. He merely heated with his breath the cold metal of his stethoscope and had placed it right over her heart and had asked her to take big, even breaths.

She had felt his warm, dark fingers ghost over the swell of her left breast and couldn't help but shiver at the personal touch. And the good doctor had simply apologized that the metal was still so cold! He had continued the auscultation of her body with that same indifference and afterwards dismissed her presence, not once glancing over his shoulder to watch her retreating from his practice.

He had wounded her feminine pride badly, and she didn't like it.

Wanting to know who this Ethan Hawk character was, Julia had decided that a visit with her mother had sadly been overdue for some time now. Heading out from her apartment in Downtown Maxville, Julia had driven for thirty minutes or so to the quiet neighborhood of her childhood.

The narrow, Victorian-styled home had belonged to her mother's family for over seventy years. The wood work was a bit old with wear and water-damage, but it still held a majestic ambiance to it. It had been repainted its glossy white color and the garden was always accumulating more and more flowers, thanks to her mother. The colorful blossoms only popped out more to the eye with the pale background.

Julia had both fond and depressing memories in that house. Returning to it, after having longed for nothing more than escaping its regal walls for most of her life, filled her with guilt and somberness. Being of the independent nature that she was, she preferred her solitary, city life to the quiet suburban, family setting. Thinking about family usually left her with a bad taste in her mouth.

Shaking out the last remainders of hatred from her features, Julia had walked up the cement walkway, up the porch steps, and knocked on the front door. From her position outside, Julia had made out the loud, rowdy laughter and screaming of children. A few seconds later, a short-statured and robust woman with dyed chestnut-brown hair had answered the door and Julia had to choke back the tears that out of nowhere threatened to leak from her eyes.

God, had she missed her mama.

When Julia had been eight or nine years old, her father had abandoned his family in favor of a hot, young thing he had met at _work_.

In reality, the hussy had been a superheroine that Julia had idolized in her ignorant childhood. The tramp had managed to win her father's cold heart and he had came and went from their lives as if they were exchangeable items he could just return for something newer and better.

Julia would never forget that sleepy afternoon after school when her parents had argued and screamed at each other over things she hadn't understood then. He had called his wife useless, a mere citizen. Her mother, a woman with no power of her own, had loved and married the famed superhero, Blizzard. And he had threatened to leave them all for a woman more worthy of his time and actually have the probability of having children with some power.

He hadn't known that little Julia was already showing signs of having a great ability.

He had left their lives so easily; it was that simple for him to abandon them. Her brothers loathed him, loathed him as she could not. She had been a true Daddy's girl then. She had loved that apathetic man and had longed for his affection. Out of all of her siblings, she had been the only one born with his power and with his features.

Now she just cursed it.

With time, she too began to loath the man that never called, that never wrote, that never worried, that never asked or showed up for his children's birthday parties. She began to hate him with her little heart and till this day ignored the fact that she ever had a father.

Pushing herself to be the best superheroine of all time, far greater than the powerful Jetstream, Julia wanted to prove that she wasn't useless. That she wasn't trash, something that could not easily be discarded as that man had discarded her.

She wanted, above all else, to prove not only her worth, but the worth of the woman, the citizen, who had raised four children all on her own and still braved to retain her good and noble heart, without letting it darken by all the wrong done to her.

Her mother was an extraordinary creature.

Upon seeing the tall, willowy woman on her doorstep, Carolyn Moore had taken a step closer to her only and youngest daughter and had hugged the living daylights out of her.

"My baby has come home!" the motherly instinct to coddle her youngest rebelled within the stout woman, but knowing her daughter like she did, she had refrained herself and instead given her some space. Taking the taller woman's hand within her own, Carolyn beamed at her child, "It has been too long, Julia. Why haven't you passed by sooner? A mother tends to worry about their children, you know! Your brothers always keep in touch with me, yet for you to even call your poor mother is a mission!"

Also knowing her mother's tendency to dramatize and blow things out of proportion, Julia shook her head. "I visited about a month ago, mom! And I call you at least once a week. You know how busy I am with work and…_work_."

Knowing of her daughter's night time profession, Carolyn crossed herself briefly while allowing the superheroine entrance inside, "I'm petrified that something might happen to you, sweetie. You're my baby girl and I just…I never liked you going out, by yourself, to fight crime as you do."

Julia, having stepped into the foyer, gave her mother a rebellious look, "You know I can handle myself better than most men out there, mama. I'm a damn good super. Don't worry so much, I'm good at watching my own back." Softening her expression, she continued, "If anything, it's you I worry about."

Scoffing, the chestnut-haired woman eyed her daughter carefully, "I know how to handle myself as well, Julia." Turning her head away from her daughter and towards the rest of the house, she added, "Thomas' boys are here. Just warning you ahead of time, they are in a rather euphoric mood. I think they 'snuck their hands in the cookie jar.'"

Closing her blue-green eyes, Julia groaned. Not the Triple Threat. As much as she loved the adorable little brunettes, she couldn't help it if they were the most troublemaking of the eight nephews and nieces she had.

Add questionable sugar intake to the mix and you get hyped up little three-year-olds, or the Triple Threat, as Julia fondly likes to call them.

In that moment, the three brothers in question materialized before their aunt and grandmother. Wielding the cardboard roll that holds towel paper together, they had been using them like swords, fighting and hitting at each other.

Seeing their favorite, and only, aunt standing there in the foyer, the triplets had breathed in deeply and sounded off a loud battle cry, "Monster!"

Daniel, the eldest of the three by twenty minutes and the one with lighter hair, charged forward first. "Get her, men!"

The other two, Dylan and Derek, made to follow their leader's orders. Dylan had been the second born and the one currently sporting a small gap between his front teeth, while Derek, the youngest had an abundance of freckles that were scattered across his nose and cheeks.

If they weren't possessed, she might have considered them cute. But sadly no, they were evil little things.

The little runts, no taller than her thighs, began attacking her with the cardboard 'swords.' And while she had been getting conquered by a bunch of three-year-olds who had dubbed her the 'monster,' her mother had been busy laughing at her as her grandbabies terrorized their only aunt.

And her mother wondered why she hadn't popped out babies yet.

Having decided to give her nephews a run for their money, Julia had cried out the best bestial growl that she could produce and lifted one of the triple D's into her arms. Using the little boy's body (she faintly thought it was Dylan's) as a shield, the light-haired superheroine had blocked the weapons attacking her and cried out in triumph. "You cannot kill me, frail little humans!"

"The monster's got me!" Dylan had cried out within her arms. "Help me, Nana!"

"Nana, stop the wicked monster from eating Dylan!" Derek's freckles had moved with his facial expressions, bunching together as the little boy scrunched up his face in a grimace. "Don't eat Dylan, monster! He doesn't taste very good!"

"Yeah, Yeah, I taste like poop!"

"Ew, Dylan tastes like poop!" Daniel's adorable face had also scrunched up in a grimace much like his brother's had.

Unable to hold in her amusement, Julia had chuckled at the craziness that was her family. Her mother had taken Dylan from her hands and placed him on the ground along with his brothers. At having Dylan returned to them safe and sound, Daniel and Derek had sandwiched their middle brother in a big hug.

"It's ok if you taste like poop, Dylan, you're still my brother," Daniel had said bravely; being the eldest entailed sacrifices after all.

"Mine too!"

"Alright, darlings, let's go make some macaroni and cheese," Julia's mother had clapped to get their attention, ushering the triplets from the foyer into the kitchen. "Julia, dear, would you like to help us make lunch?"

Having decided that now was the perfect moment to make like a magician and disappear, Julia had declined, having need of the restroom. Brushing away her daughter's dismissal, Carolyn entertained herself with her youngest grandbabies, thus distracting the little devils from disturbing Julia's mission.

Well, that hadn't worked.

A loud crash brought Julia out of her thoughts abruptly. Turning to her three nephews, she found the contents of a box spilled all over the attic floor. They each bore apologetic expressions and nervously shifted their feet.

"We're sorry, Auntie Julia, we didn't mean to drop it!" Derek said, his hazel-green eyes, much like his siblings, were slightly watered, though Julia couldn't tell if it was because of the box falling over or because of the dust in the attic.

"We'll pick it up, honest!"

"Please, don't be mad at us!"

"Boys, Boys! It's alright," Julia soothed, making her way over to them to get started on cleaning up the mess. To her surprise, when she had bended over to begin picking up the scattered objects on the floor, she found amongst them the hardcover yearbook she had been digging for.

Picking up the white memoir into her hands, Julia proceeded to kiss each of her three nephews on the cheek. At their confused faces at having just been rewarded, instead of punished, Julia smiled reassuringly at them, "You guys just helped me complete my mission, thank you."

"_That _was your mission?" Daniel asked, eyeing the yearbook in bewilderment.

"It's just a book!" Dylan scoffed, much like her brother, Thomas, would.

"Maybe it's a magic book," Derek added as a forethought. "Is it a magic book, Auntie Julia?"

Ruffling Derek's brown hair, Julia smiled excitedly, "That it is, Derek. That it is."

~/\\~

Inmate 29573 had been aroused from his light slumber by the banging of batons on the cell bars imprisoning the supervillains at _Ground Zero_, the largest holding facility for supers gone bad in all of Maxville.

The wardens, a bunch of citizens prancing about as if they had real power, continued down the rows of bars, barking out as they went for everyone to wake up, its chow time.

Another day eating the plain, tasteless gob they call food. Another day locked out from the real world. Another day to hate living in this underground simulation of hell.

He arose from his bed and stood silently by the cell door, waiting for the pretentious fools to finally let him out so he could begin his day and end it as he had been doing for the past twenty years.

His cellmate, Freddie Stockholm, number 32719, stood beside him and glowered. "The dogs seem to be extra perky today, don't ya think, Big Shot?" he spat, referring to the wardens marching up and down the cells. "What I wouldn't give to have my powers back. I'd teach them pups who's their master."

Ignoring the idiot, he walked out of his cell when the doors were finally opened for them. Standing in the line-up, he kept his vision focused on the head of the inmate before him. Taking the space behind him, Freddie continued to whisper conspiratorially to him as they marched towards the food hall.

Freddie, for the most part, was harmless. What he had learned about the supervillain was that he was all talk, no act. He enjoyed hearing himself more than having people actually listen. He assumed that it was Freddie's way of coping with the enclosed surroundings without going insane.

Inmate 29573's eyes remained focused on the head before him, walking along with the others down the stairs and towards the large room used only for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Upon entering the room, the incarcerated men dispersed, taking up their regular tables after receiving their food.

Only during the eating periods of the day were the men and women in the prison allowed to be co-ed. They were kept separate, in different halls from one another, with their own holding cells apart from them. Seeing the fairer sex three times a day did little to quench the pent up desires of the male inmates and during this time of day, usually a fight or two would break out.

After getting his food and taking a seat far from the others, Freddie was the only fool that dared join him at his table. The other inmates feared him too much to near him, and the ones arrogant enough to pick a fight with a senior villain, such as himself, often than not had to get stitches at the infirmary. The last time some punk thought it funny to call him an old man dearly paid for their mistake.

Freddie, as usual, began complaining about this and that, he wasn't really paying attention. He heard a few comments from him about the women inmates, but this too he ignored. Why he allowed the younger man leniency as he did was something he questioned himself on a regular basis. He theorized that killing the boy would only disrupt his monotony and he wasn't too keen on getting a new cellmate.

Looking down at the food on his tray, he sighed and began eating as quietly as he performed most tasks. His peace, however, was disturbed by the ruckus a few tables down.

Not five minutes into their breakfast period and already a fight.

The darkly dressed wardens, or Dobermans, as Freddie liked to call them, were the elite jailors at _Ground Zero_. Usually, they didn't have much contact with the inmates. They were generally stationed in the outside perimeter or asked to secure areas where there were group outings, such as meal times.

The Dobermans were upon the two fighting in an instant, breaking up the violence in seconds. When the chaos ceased, he witnessed the aggressor being carried away for a bit of solitary confinement. The victim, not victim, for she had fought rather cattishly and had given her attacker a bloodied lip, was grinning like a crazed psychopath and hooting proudly at her win. The women cellmates drummed their praise, their hands beating against the tabletops in 'sync with each other.

The haunting noise was a warning: Don't mess with us, boys.

"Did you see that, Big Shot? Hey, I think I know that girl. Where have I seen her before…?" Freddie stayed surprisingly quiet after that, appearing to actually be putting some thought into finding out who had been the familiar face.

The woman in question was also being pulled along for some solitary confinement. Her shorn, pixie-like hair was dark, as were her wild eyes. She cackled as the Dobermans dragged her away and he didn't regret seeing her go. That one was troubled beyond anyone's help.

When the hour had gone, a few of the inmates were returned to their cells. Freddie, himself, and the rest of the inmates on their floor were guided to the recreational room for an hour of free time.

Not one to overdo it on the bench press, he instead took a seat before the sole television in all the prison. A few joined him, including Freddie, though the others stayed a respectful distance away from him.

Grunts were heard around as the muscle-heads continued to exercise on the machines and weights provided. Focusing instead on the morning news, he sat back in his plastic seat and entwined his hands together, resting them on his stomach.

Raising a brow in question as he watched Maxville's newest prima donna news anchor, Ramona Shepherd, give the breaking news of the day, he couldn't help but think one thing.

_So, it has begun. _

~/\\~

Author's Note: Now you know alittle but more about Julia's background and why she tends to push people away, especially men, and date only assholes.

Is it me or are all the children in my story evil little things? I guess I can't help myself! They are just too cute! Just in case you're wondering, Julia has a grand total of three brothers' and each one is married with children. Thomas, the youngest of her brother's, has the triplets. Patrick (the eldest brother) has two, a boy and girl, not twins and they are already adults. And last, Victor (the second eldest) has three, twin girls and one boy.

Ooh, Julia has finally found the yearbook! Will she be able to recognize Ethan as a freshman? And who is inmate 29573? Keep reading to find out! Things are getting complicated!

Joi will be making an appearance in next chapter, along with another new character!

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN! **


	12. Ch 12: Girl Talk With Alittle Mayhem

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.12: Girl Talk With Alittle Mayhem

It took roughly an hour or so for the compensation checks to be completed that lazy Wednesday afternoon.

For a while now, Joi had been attempting to persuade the bank into helping her draw up a direct deposit system for the employee's that did have banking accounts. It would be another convenience for fewer checks to be written and instead, have the bank deposit the employee's earnings straight into their accounts. However, the bank felt that her establishment was still too _raw,_ and attempting such a sudden change could cause complications.

_Give it more time, _they say. As if she didn't know a thing about handling money.

Deciding not to push the stuffy banker any more than necessary, Joi exited the columned building of Maxville's _Trust Bank_ and entered the flowing and moving current that was lunch traffic.

Having foregone walking that day since the bank was located in Downtown Maxville, Joi had taken the bus into the city. Aunt Ming Yue had attempted to cajole her many a time to invest in an automobile, but Joi honestly preferred catching the bus or walking. A car wasn't necessary when one had the means to get around.

In stark contrast to the suburban life she had been brought up in, Downtown was a bustling section of the city. Joi never travelled much into town, but she couldn't deny that it was a sight. The tall, imposing skyscrapers reached toward the heavens and reflected the sun's glare as she made her way through the throng of busybodies. She must have been a sight herself. A young woman, wearing a floral print sundress and staring at surrounding buildings out amongst the drably dressed businessmen- and women- hurrying by with their faces grim, heads downcast, as they talked loudly into their cellphones, trying to be heard over the deafening crowd.

The city life just wasn't her cup of tea.

Shifting the weight of her shoulder bag, Joi continued on her way without distraction. Every other Wednesday afternoon was marked down on her calendar as her scheduled lunch-date with her college friend. They would always meet up around one o'clock at _Lou's Dinner_ down by the corner of Jensen and 148th avenue.

Joi was already running ten minutes late.

Weaving through the crowd and excusing herself when she bumped into another's shoulder, she finally managed to reach _Lou's Dinner_ and proceeded to hunt down her friend. Within seconds of looking, Joi had found her sitting at their usual booth near the front counter where Lou, the dinner's owner, was busily refilling coffee mugs for customers.

Waving to the busy man, earning her one in return, Joi walked around scattered tables and took a seat opposite her friend.

"You're late and I love the dress, hon." Her friend's eyes narrowed slowly in concentration when she finally got a good look at her, "Your hair though…it looks slightly glossier than usual and your skin looks peachy, have you been sleeping around?"

Sticking out like a sore thumb in her vibrant vintage coat, Marjorie Hawk smiled knowingly at her best friend. Her dark plum painted fingernails drummed against her chin with her wild, curly hair framing her soft features, accentuating her sensual and alluring beauty. Her deep-set, chocolate-colored eyes feathered with short, full lashes and sweeping eyeshadow promised many a sinful things, but kept an air of mystery to lure those hungry flies in. She was pure sweetness, with her full and rolling hips, heavy bosom and promiscuous smile. She was all things sexual personified and she just loved the added attention.

Shaking her head at her friend, Joi sighed, "Must you think of nothing else, Marie?"

Shrugging her shoulders, the young African-American woman smiled her legendary smile as she drank from her glass of water. "Darling, when it comes to you, I am a single-minded woman. I worry about you and your unhealthy sex-life. It pains me."

"I'm sure," she muttered, taking her own sip of sweet tea that Marie had knowingly ordered for her. "I see now why you and my aunt are in perfect harmony with one another."

Chuckling with her slow, smooth voice, Marie eyed her friend, "Ming Yue and I have an understanding. She always thought I was trouble. Too right she was, my dear. I never pretended to be something I was not around her, and I guess she liked that. Who really knows? Your uncle though, now he's a sweetie pie. But we are digressing, answer my question."

Rolling her eyes, Joi answered her, "Of course I haven't been sleeping around. Where in my busy schedule do you see me having time to do such things, and even if I could, I wouldn't. You know that. You know how I am, Marie."

"Now don't make me lose hope, Joi. I'm rooting for a non-virgin by the end of the year. It was my New Year's resolution last year."

"Your New Year's resolution was for me to lose my virginity? I definitely will be keeping these closed for sure now, thank you very much," Joi replied, motioning to her thighs. "And aren't New Year resolutions supposed to be for yourself?"

"Now why would I need one for myself? I am perfectly content."

"So am I, Marie!"

Eyeing her carefully, Marie dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "No hon, you most certainly are not. But not to worry, there is hope for you still."

Having known the young woman for almost four years now, Joi knew that when Marie got on the subject of her love-life, there was no stopping the plotting, the manipulation, and the weaseling that more than likely would ensue.

In their freshman year of college, the two had shared a common calculus class. Not one to be overly friendly, Joi had spent a good week or so without saying a word in class and doing her work diligently. Marie was very much the opposite. An eccentric and domineering woman by nature, she would usually wave her hand up in the air deliberately to get called upon by their professor, only to insult him afterwards on the choice of their current lesson. Questioning an educator's method of teaching usually never ends well and Marie usually found herself being asked to vacate the classroom for the day.

The following day, Marie had shown for class. The professor was yet in arriving since it had been a few minutes before class started. A few students were already seated, including Joi. Marie had taken her usual seat behind her and began rummaging through her things. When she ceased, Joi caught the tempo of her nails drumming along the desk in apparent boredom. She had then felt a manicured nail tap her on her shoulder and when she had turned in her seat, the young African-American woman had very politely asked if she could copy her notes from yesterday's lesson.

Handing Marie her notebook, they said no more to each other for the remainder of class. The following day, Joi was already seated when Marie made her appearance. Heading up the stairs, she was just passing by her row, when she seemed to still and then, thinking better of it, sat right beside Joi and introduced herself as Marjorie Hawk, but Marie would do.

"Joi," she had responded mutely, wondering at the sudden need to befriend her.

"I hope you don't think I'm too forward, Joi, but I just love your hair. I haven't seen hair as long as yours since back in the '90. It suits you. I myself have never worked on Asian hair before, but it is a weakness of mine. But, darling, those nails! I caught a glimpse of them yesterday and they were almost chewed down to the cuticle!"

It was a strange way to start a friendship, but they had remained friends ever since that day. Marie, the cosmetology major with a minor in art, had always found it amusing that of all the Asians she just had to get stuck with, it had to be with one that didn't know a thing about nails.

Some might have thought her musings stereotypical, but that was just Marie. She will tell you exactly how she feels about any given subject, not bothering in being politically correct. She was a spiritualist, an ambitious feminist, and one fiercely, opened-minded woman.

Keeping this in mind, Joi just disregarded her friend with a proper shake of her head. "Your insanity knows no bounds."

Winking at her, Marie paused from answering her when the waitress reached their booth and addressed them if they were ready to order. Taking down their orders, the waitress promptly dismissed herself, reassuring them that their food would be served shortly.

"My dear, I will not give up on you. Call it my over-hyped blood, but I want to see my girl with 'sex-hair' at some point in my lifetime. Which reminds me, when are you passing by the salon? Those spilt-ends need to go."

For some reason when Marie mentioned that, a certain rogue with unkempt hair that needed a good trimming presented himself fixedly in her mind. It must have shown on her face, because Marie crossed her arms and leaned forward over the table, "Is there something on your mind, hon?"

Cupping the glass of tea between her palms, Joi ran her thumb over the lip absentmindedly. "I don't know."

"It must be something," Marie stated, toying with the gold bangles on her wrists. And then a slow smile spread through her lips, "Oh, I know exactly what it is. I've seen it before." Her dark eyes were shining and her bronze skin seemed to glow with a new awareness.

Joi watched as Marie licked her top lip pensively, "It's a guy, isn't it?" At the fierce blush that took over her friend's cheeks, Marie gave a good whoop and her smile looked more like a smirk all of a sudden, "Well don't just sit there, hon, tell me about Mr. Lover-boy."

"I swear, Marie, when you say lover-boy like that all I can think about is Dirty Dancing."

"Oh so you want to dirty dance with your secrete man, eh?"

"Marie!" Joi chastised, lowering her head onto her arms and groaning, though the sound was swallowed by the crook of her arm. Faintly, Joi could hear in the background Lou messing with his radio, finally settling on the news station.

Why oh why must her friend be of such a perverse mind? She felt fingers conscientiously running through her hair and sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything," she muttered into her arm.

The fingers stilled their ministration. "You're going to have to speak up, darling?"

Lifting her head and adjusting herself, Joi eyed her friend skeptically. "I said, 'I shouldn't have said anything.'"

Marie shrugged her shoulders, "I would have figured it out anyways. Now, are you going to spill, or not?"

What was a girl to do? When your best friend asks you to spill all, to delve into your current, plaguing thoughts and finally give them reprieve, what would you do? Joi couldn't bring up to her aunt or uncle the strange, yet enthralling moments she had shared with a certain busboy. How after so many years of absence, she was starting to think more of him. How her feelings were so muddled that she couldn't make out who she was anymore. She didn't even know who _he_ was anymore.

And yet, she couldn't help how she felt. He was someone who needed her. He was a friend, not friend, whom she had wanted to help and now she didn't know where the line between friends and slow attractions began and ended. He captivated her, and it scared her.

How easily he could come into her life and make her question herself.

There was something he was still hiding from her, something they were all hiding. And so, Joi told Marie everything, from the night when she had closed the _Paper Lantern_ and had walked home, only to find the troubled young man she had known ten years ago sitting in an alleyway. She told her of how she had taken him to her apartment and how she had gone about in getting him to remember who she was. She even told her about Will and Layla's appearance that night and how she had left them alone at her place, so that they could reacquaint themselves with each other.

She had to pause her retelling, since the waitress came at that moment with their hot food. Thanking her, Marie expertly dismissed the waitress and turned her undivided attention back onto her. She stayed perfectly still, her heavy top-lip, generously glossed over in matching plum lipstick, wedged between her teeth. The young African-American woman made no notion to speak and waited with surprising patience for her friend to begin where she left off.

Sighing, Joi worried the napkin in her hand, "I don't know, Marie. I'm just…" She lowered her eyes and stared instead at her fingers pensively, unsure on how to finish that statement.

"I'm starting to think there is more to it than that, hon."

Too right she was. Joi, focusing her erratic thoughts, finished her musings. She described how after a few hours she had returned to her apartment, only to find the rogue asleep on her couch. In embarrassment, she retold how she had touched him, leaving out from her story the bruise on his jaw and any other weird anomalies that had transpired that night. Marie's brow had shot up into her hairline at that. Still, the woman remained uncharacteristically silent and never made to interrupt her.

"I offered him work as a busboy and now he works for me. I told him that his rent would come from his paycheck and he seemed alright with the proposition. Not much else, I guess." At finishing, Joi sat back and watched as her friend's face became quite animated.

Oh Marie was having a very good day! "I particularly enjoyed the bit about how you vandalized him in his sleep. My baby, so grown!"

"I honestly don't know what came over me, Marie," Joi defended. "Besides, he didn't seem so upset with me."

Marie snorted very unladylike. "Of course not, hon, he's a man!"

Joi gave her a withering look, "Clearly you don't know Warren Peace like I do. The man practically has stamped on his forehead 'Do Not Disturb! Warning: Bad Dog! Private Property: No Trespassing-'"

"I get the picture, hon."

"-Beware: Easily-Angered-And-Cranky-On-Most-Days!" Joi breathed in deeply before continuing, "He doesn't like it when people touch him, Marie. I was mortified! Thankfully he hasn't mentioned it since."

Marie shrugged, "Well, from what I remember, that piece of eye-candy never seemed much of a talker, so bringing up things better left alone would be something he would do, and he certainly was a rather prickly fellow. Apparently, he hasn't changed much."

There was a pregnant pause. "You know him?" Joi didn't understand why her voice suddenly sounded so small to her ears.

"Well, I knew of him. Ethan went to school with him, including Will and Layla. They were all friends," Marie replied, taking a slow drawl from her water and a testing bite of her food. "But I did get a good glance in once, and my, I don't blame you for your wandering hands…hmm…got to love _Lou's_."

Groaning, Joi played with her own food with her fork, but decided not to respond. Her appetite suddenly seemed trivial to the conversation at hand.

Dabbing her painted lips gently with a napkin, Marie grinned cattishly at her friend. "I think you like him, hon."

It took her friend's outspoken words to make her rethink about the last few days. "No, I don't, I can't. We're not even really friends right now and I'm just helping him out in the mean time until he gets back on his feet."

But for some reason she doubted her words and she knew Marie did as well. She hadn't told Marie how his body had been smoking when she had found him and how at strange moments a heat would creep up her spine. She couldn't say those things, because she somehow knew they were private and dangerous. Whatever _this _was, she wanted to keep to herself until she understood what was going on.

"You know what I think?" _No, but I know you're going to tell me._ "I think you're just trying to come up with excuses. I'm pretty sure you never stopped thinking of him as your friend, what with you giving him Eskimo kisses and all, which I find rather adorable I might add. And now, something has changed that is making you hide things from me, but it's ok," she said, holding up a hand in reassurance when Joi made to deny it.

"Really, hon, it's alright. I just worry about you. You're _too _nice. And, you think that you can help every living, and possibly nonliving, things on this planet. Just be careful around him, ok? I don't feel like breaking his balls, but if he hurts you, I'll make an exception."

Marie, in rare moments, was touched with such easy clarity and tended to hit home with her perceptive musings. But then her blunt, sharp words tended to kill the moment rather quickly. "You're violence is not necessary," Joi said gently, a sweet smile spreading through her lips. "Thanks, Marie."

"What do you think I'm here for?" Marie huffed, not at all deterred. "I've got to watch out for my girl's best interests after all." With a fluttering wink, the hot-blooded female turned back to her generous meal and proceeded in eating.

Joi joined her with less enthusiasm.

Now that they were busy eating their lunch, the voices on the radio that Joi had faintly heard earlier were much clearer.

"_-Yes, Ramona, the Mayor is one-hundred percent positive that his campaign will bring about his certain reelection into office. In three weeks time, he is holding a fundraising banquet in Town Hall, just a week short of the general elections. Talk about confidence! Do you think Bob McKinney has a chance in winning this one? The Mayor has had a popular run for two terms now."_

"_-The polls show a greater popularity for Mayor Henderson, but McKinney is not completely out of the running's yet. I guess we'll just have to wait and see how the elections hold up, Howard. In other breaking news this morning, a citizen of Maxville heists an esteemed jewelry store in broad daylight-" _

"Turn that up, Lou," Marie called out to the dinner's owner, her sudden interest in the news also beckoning Joi's curiosity.

"You know I can't have it so loud, Marie," Lou scolded her, his hands busy wiping down the counter he was standing behind.

"Oh come on, darling, you know I'm slightly deaf. No one's going to complain," she coaxed, pouting out her plum-colored lips sullenly.

Shaking his head, the mid-aged man sighed and cranked up the volume to his little red radio, "Yeah, yeah. Just be quiet will you, I'm working here." His voice wasn't really annoyed though.

"Thanks, Lou! I'll give your wife a free consultation!"

He merely waved her off with the towel in his hand and continued wiping down the counter.

Both college friends turned their attention back to Ramona Shepherd's static-stricken voice, _"-the robber didn't get far on foot and was easily captured by the masked hero, Silver Wing, and is currently being questioned by Maxville's men-in-blue. The proper authorities have yet to disclose any information about the case, but it is known that the man in question's name is Kevin Sanders and that he was currently employed by the CleanWaters plantation. _

"_-From his records, no other indiscretions could be retrieved and so it is still a mystery why a citizen that has never committed a felony before would all-of-a-sudden be influenced into crime-doing. More on the subject will be offered by the police on a later date. As always, this is Ramona Shepherd-"_

"_-And I'm Howard Richards, with your local news at noon."_

"Well," Marie began a few minutes after the news anchors went off the air, "that was surprising."

Joi kept her eyes trained on the radio. "Indeed."

~/\\~

Author's Note: Hmm…not much to say today. This chapter for some reason was alittle harder to write and it is not necessarily one of my favorites, but it was essential for following chapters.

Keep that in mind! And keep reading!


	13. Ch 13: Losing Control

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.13: Losing Control

It has been two days since the initial meeting with the pyrokinetic in his office and Ethan Hawk was bone-tired.

With very little sleep, and even less food in his belly, the good doctor had been working on empty with only determination and a pig-headed stubbornness keeping him going. If his dear mother were to be standing right now by his doorway, he knew that he would get a sound verbal bashing and a possible bruise to go along with it.

Now, his mother was of a gentle sort on most days, but when one of her babies was hurt, or in this case, hurting themselves, the lioness in her would become dominant and soundly deal with the issue at hand. He knew, appallingly so, that his mother would set him straight with only the raise of a finely waxed eyebrow.

He didn't even want to picture the image his father would make.

One parent was enough, but two? If it were both, no matter how old he may think he is, Ethan would be reduced to begging and pleading as if he were a toddler again. His father, though with his arthritis pains and aches, was a no nonsense and practical man. He liked a hardworking person and commended them for their accomplishments, but not at the expense of one's health. No, he certainly would not approve.

Sighing, the good doctor tried his best to keep his parent's disapproving faces from his thoughts and once again returned to the compound darkfield microscope sitting on his desk. The florescent lighting was stinging at his eyes and he dearly wanted to just collapse already. But sadly no, he had to continue. He had made a promise after all. He needed to discover what was wrong with the pyro.

The few drops of Warren's fresh and chemical-free blood on the slide looked black under the glare of light.

He had thought of closing down the clinic for a few days, so that he could focus completely on testing and examining the blood he had collected from the wretched young man, but he knew he couldn't.

And that was why he was so damn tired. He was basically working a double-shift. In the mornings, he worked in the clinic as a physician, taking patient upon patient back into his little office and performing the tasks asked of him. At night, he worked on the elusive blood that was just making his life difficult and making him slightly cranky.

He was hungry and sleep-deprived. Not a very good combination indeed.

So, here he was, alone in his little office at ten o 'clock in the evening, trying his hardest to remain awake and get the job done. He didn't want to think about having to wake up in a few hours, only to be in the office again before dawn.

He never thought he would come to hate the white walls of his practice as much as he did now. They were giving him a headache.

_Relax, Ethan,_ he chanted inwardly to himself, closing his eyes.

Instead of his helpful mind providing the image of a tranquil waterfall or an Arabian desert at dusk behind his closed eyelids, he found himself picturing a long-legged, blond-haired goddess who just wouldn't leave him alone.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, knowing no better time to use the word than now.

Her blue-green eyes were haunting him. Why now, after years of not seeing the insufferable woman, did he have to have such a sudden infatuation with her? It had taken, literally, all of his feeble will-power not to melt before the pale-haired beauty when she had opened her blouse in his office.

The gentle swell of her breasts and her intricate lacy bra wrecked havoc within his very blood. And when he had placed his stethoscope over her heart and an errant finger had graced her golden skin, he so badly wanted to disappear, to run away from that very room and leave her side in order to breathe in air that wasn't pungent with her heady scent.

But for one terrible second, he had wanted to act upon his most carnal of urges and run his lips over the glowing skin of her exquisite throat.

But the second was short and easily stomped upon. She was his patient. Worse, she was once the significant other of a good friend of his, though it mattered little now. It would just complicate a perfectly respectable relationship between a doctor and his patient, and he did not want to cross such unchartered territory with her; especially her.

Besides, she didn't even recognize him. Goes to show how ill-placed his affections were.

Since his mind was only making matters worse, Ethan reopened his eyes and straightened in his seat. He took the microscope within his hands and lowered his eyes to the optical, not expecting to find anything remotely different or enlightening within the pyro's blood since having begun this research. He had lost track how many times he had examined and reexamined the blood before him, even going so far as using different blood samples from the other vials, hoping he had missed something, anything.

But the results were the same, no matter how many times he looked.

So, he had tried researching again, this time, on any reported cases of supers who carried strong powers that might overwhelm the supers themselves, but nothing. There were no cases where a super had been victim to their own power, just as he had suspected.

So with little hope, Ethan looked at Warren's blood one final time for that night and found something truly terrifying.

_No, it cannot be possible._

Reaching blindly into his pocket, not taking his eyes off of the blood before him, afraid that it would return to its once inactive state, Ethan pulled out his sleek, black cellphone and speed-dialed the man he knew could help him.

Placing the phone to his ear, he heard the ringer for only a brief second before it was answered. Trust him to pick up in the middle of the night.

"Medulla, speaking."

"Professor, you're going to have to take a look at this."

~/\\~

It had been two days since Warren Peace had last visited the good doctor at his practice and since then, he was certain he was going to lose control.

After that fine afternoon, in which he had been tested a bit more before being dismissed by the changed man he had known as a teen, he had been driven to his new _home_ and asked to take things easy by a maternal, red-haired hippie. Since then, he had felt his fire growing alarmingly within him.

Strangely, he hadn't felt better until Joi had returned from the bank around three that afternoon. She had seemed her usual cheery self, though for some inane reason, something troubled him. Maybe he was being too observant, if that were even possible, and seeing things that weren't even there. But he couldn't help feeling that the young Asian woman with the cool temperament and easy smile was slightly jumpy around him, as if he were going to attack her.

It sounded strange just thinking about it, but he couldn't help thinking it.

They had worked that night together without incident and he wondered why the restaurant's owner only worked late-shifts.

"Because the other managers prefer working mornings and I don't mind it," she had replied in her carefree tone, smiling mischievously up at him. "Besides, I enjoy working with Xing-Xing and tormenting you makes my night."

Honestly, he didn't understand her all those years ago, and he certainly didn't understand her now as a grown woman. He hadn't replied, as usual, and kept at his work. Xing-Xing had rather enjoyed laughing at their expense. The man had kept eyeing Joi and himself the whole night until they had closed.

The two of them had been closing together since they lived in the same apartment and Warren didn't want her closing up by herself in the middle of the night. The genuine concern for her safety was strange in coming, but he passed it off, reasoning that he owed her big time and waiting for her each night was little compared to all she had done for him.

Of course it wasn't because he strangely felt protective over her. Nope, not at all.

So, with his mind settled that he did **not** have ulterior motives for walking home with Joi every night, listening to her light footsteps echo beside his own, watching from the corner of his eye as she would stare up at the waning moon or indigo sky with true awe highlighting her soft face in childish enchantment…

_Oh, just screw it_, he cursed his pounding heart, _the girl could use someone to watch her back, since instead of actually keeping alert when walking home, she has her head in the clouds!_

But for some reason, he could not fault her naïve innocence. It was surprisingly…charming. The thought alone sent another tremor of heat straight to his limbs.

_Keep it together, Peace. You can't go around thinking that your boss is charming._

Thinking of his **not **so charming boss, Warren distractedly finished wiping down the last tabletop, throwing the damp rag he had been using over his shoulder, and turned only to regret doing so.

Joi had taken perch on the counter, facing the entrance, her dark hair falling free from its tie and touching the small of her back. A few strands had fallen over her shoulder as she bent over, reaching for the thin line of her stockings. Warren watched fixedly as she hooked her fingertips around the fabric and began lowering it over her thigh, giving him the supple sight of her toned, pale skin. The hindering fabric continued on its journey and grazed over her right knee, the bone slightly protruding and sinking as it flexed when she moved it. The black stocking was rolling down a lithe calve, until finally reaching the delicate arch of a foot. Warren hadn't even noticed when Joi had kicked off her shoes.

When the stocking was finally removed, exposing the expanse of her leg, Warren had stood rooted in horror as he hungrily took in her bright, slightly damp flesh. The other day he had seen her legs for crying out loud, but somehow his body thought differently. The show she had unconsciously put on for him was much more provocative than her brief appearance in a sundress two days ago.

But what happened next was what sent the pyrokinetic right over the edge.

Joi moaned.

_Oh, Christ._

Joi, not aware of the pyro's musing, was groaning in pleasure when the hot, sticky cloth of her stocking was finally freed from her right leg. Nothing short of wanting to rip the stuffy fabric off, she had duly noted that it was her sole pair and she rather liked them. However, the _Paper Lantern_ somehow felt like a sauna that night. When it had been growing dark outside, she had checked the temperature reading on the air conditioning and found that the room was a chilly sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit and outside it was even cooler.

So, the mystery stood.

After all the patricians and the employees had left for the night, Joi had gone around helping Warren cleanup and had finished with the register in record time. The heat that she felt only within herself was becoming too much and all she wanted to do was close shop and go home, maybe take a below freezing shower to cool her heated flesh. She felt the slick perspiration on her body and grimaced.

Deciding to cool her body at least alittle, she had taken a seat on her favorite spot in the restaurant and had kicked off her shoes and painstakingly pulled off the skin-tight, damp stocking she wore, moaning her praise at the small relief. Her knee-length skirt had ridden up to her thighs and if she were in her right state of mind, she would have felt bashful at how much skin she was showing. Her hair was also slick against her neck, so she tied it up again away from her face and pulled off the left stocking.

Once done, holding the pair of stockings in her hand, Joi wiggled her toes and blessed the small liberation when air touched her burning flesh. Palming the counter's edge between her fingers, Joi slouched forward and raised her head, her eyes wandering around the restaurant.

She had missed the pyro's subtle exit into the kitchens.

From where she sat at the front counter, she could hear running water coming from the kitchens and assumed that Warren was washing the remaining dishes. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair, picturing in her mind the concentrated look in his eyes as he lifted dish after dish into his tan fingers and scrubbed them clean, rinsed them with hot water, and placed them to the side, all in a rhythmic and orderly fashion; just as he liked to perform everything in life.

However, that was not the actual picture Warren Peace was painting.

Instead, the pyro was shaking, his large body trembling with the recognizable and terrifying heat of his power. It was surfacing.

He wanted to cry out, to scream bloody murder with all the air remaining in his lungs. The pain was excruciating. When it makes its intentions known, when it has decided that it was time for a little fun, the fire would eat within him, weakening his strength so rapidly that he was left drained, with little fight left within his muscles to push him onward. His eyesight was losing focus, blacking out and coming back in frantic patterns, causing him a dizzying case of vertigo. He felt the bile rising in his throat and had enough sense to move closer to the sink.

The nauseous feeling rose until he felt the acidic taste at his throat. He leaned over the sink and retched heavily, his lungs gasping, as the sickness, the fire, within his body growled in relentless pleasure. His limbs, numb and useless, shuddered with the awareness that he was going to let loose that fire once again.

The thought that Joi was only a few feet away chilled him to the bone.

And yet, the fire did not repent. It continued to attack him, the vicious nature of it driving into him over and over again. He could feel it burning its way to the surface, tearing apart the healed scars on his skin, licking away at his blood as if it were a delicious kerosene, feeding his ultimate destruction.

It was unbearable.

He had somehow managed to grope for the sink and the faucet began pouring forth water. The splashing of it echoed in his ears, muted by the drumming of his mind against his skull. The scent of smoke bombarded his senses and he knew that it was close now.

Letting out a pained howl, Warren Peace collapsed onto the red tiles of the _Paper Lantern's_ kitchen.

~/\\~

It was ten o'clock at night when Joi was brought to sudden awareness by the haunted cry that came from the kitchens.

Then, out of nowhere, the heat she had been experiencing continuously now skyrocketed. It was hotter, _fiercer_, than she had ever felt it before. It glowed within her body, ghosted over her skin and encompassed her completely. All she could feel was that heat, weighing down on her and compressing her lungs in liquid fire.

It had never been as violent as it was right then.

Shuddering, a rattled breath escaping her lungs, Joi jumped off the counter in one fluid motion, her bare feet slapping against the cold tile as she ran to the kitchens, almost skidding into a wall at how fast she was moving.

Frantically, not knowing why she was so scared, she pushed the door aside and came upon the sight of the man she had come to befriend lying and convulsing on the ground. A sobbed cry left her parted and trembling lips as his body shook, every nerve twisting in a terrible torture she could not see. His skin was sizzling with the smoke she had witnessed once before emitting from him that first night she had come across him.

His agonized cries made her take action.

Rushing to his side, she went down on her knees and took the flailing man's head between her hands, pulling as much of his much larger body closer to her own. He was hot to the touch, almost scalding.

"Warren!" she cried out, trying to capture his attention. "Warren, hey it's me, Joi. Warren you have to relax, ok? You have to calm down."

She noticed his eyes were rolled to the back of his head, showing the white's of his eyes, and she tried shaking him into awareness again, but it was no use. She was afraid that he would hurt himself.

"Warren, please! You have to try!"

Panic gripped at her heart and squeezed ruthlessly, a pathetic sound escaping her mouth. He was dying, right there in her arms, and she didn't know how to help him. There had to be something! Anything!

Another tremor rocked his frame, nearly taking her with him. His hollowed cheeks were being held still within her sweaty palms, his head shaking to free itself from the frail hold she had on him. The harsh vibration of his legs slamming against the floor resounded on the pots and pans in the enclosed kitchen, the sound like war drums in the silence.

If possible he was getting hotter.

And then she heard it.

Like a true Shakespearean epiphany, Joi lowered the convulsing man onto the tiles and stood quickly, almost falling over when a sharp pain hit her when she straightened her battered knees. She reached for the hose connected to the faucet, the running water falling onto her heated arms as she aimed the head at Warren and began soaking him with cool water.

_Please work, Please work,_ she chanted over and over in her mind, biting deeply into her lower lip.

She kept the hose trained on him, his work uniform soaking through in seconds. The tap water began collecting on his skin before evaporating at an incredible speed. More smoke emitted from his body and, for a moment, Joi hoped that she was doing the right thing and wasn't accidently making things worse.

The kitchen soon filled with the thick, grey smoke, burning at Joi's eyes and eliciting a dry cough from her. She remained standing there by the sink for what seemed like hours before he stilled in his convulsions, his face strangely pale and his eyes closed.

Dropping the hose and once again going to his side, Joi noticed that he had fainted, more than likely from the shock to his system. When she touched his wet skin, he was still slightly hot and she could make out blood seeping onto his white shirt.

His scars had reopened.

~/\\~

Author's Note: Bless me readers, for I have sinned. It's been more than a week since my last update! Sorry! Writing gets complicated when you work nine days straight at odd hours.

For those of you who might have thought my story was going too slowly for your tastes, well, let's just say this chapter just made everything fast-paced. Zach and Magenta are on their way!

Ooh…Ethan you naughty boy you. If only you knew that a certain vixen has a similar infatuation too! Writing about those two always warms my heart up.

Aww…were you guys hoping for a little steamy something between Joi and Warren? Whoops, I do apologize! I don't even know how that girl could not _feel _those heated eyes on her!

I might just consider changing this story's rating from T to M in the future. Not sure yet if I want to write more mature themes, but it is a thought for now. Let me know what you guys think!

**Darkfield microscope** (microscopy): a type of light compound microscope that is not approved by the FDA and generally not used by physicians (though Ethan used one anyways). It examines only fresh blood with no added chemicals.


	14. Ch 14: The Heroes Unmasked

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.14: The Heroes Unmasked

Professor Cornelius Eisenhower Medulla III was, for the very first time in his life, stumped.

"Well…what do you think, professor?"

Lifting his eyes from the optical of the darkfield microscope that belonged to his young prodigy, he wondered why the man continued to address him with such honorifics. They were colleagues now, no longer student and teacher.

The good doctor was nervously watching him, his hand every so often pushing back his frameless glasses further up his nose. Clearing his throat loudly, Professor Medulla hunched his shoulders slightly and rested his arms behind his back, the classic position he would take when deep in thought. His rather large brain was busily running through the countless knowledge that he had acquired throughout the years.

"I didn't know you had it in you to use underhanded means to study blood, Hawk." He smiled and unfolded his arms from behind his back, "The risks and black tactics we undergo for the good of science, hmm."

He stole a glance at the blood sample once more, considering and weighing one theory against another. When he had received such an urgent call in the middle of the night from Ethan Hawk MD, asking him to hurry on in to his clinic, he honestly had not been expecting to find the good doctor staring fixedly at a drop of blood that looked seemingly harmless.

Much less using less than professional equipment for such a study.

But when Ethan had asked him to examine the blood, he had not been expecting this. No, he could swear under oath that very second that he had never seen anything like this before and that statement was worth its weight in Spanish gold.

Never had Cornelius Eisenhower Medulla III not known the immediate answer to any question.

"I didn't have the time to wait patiently for a proper blood testing, Professor. The darkfield was the only other option," Ethan defended his choice in microscope versus clinically evaluated blood. "Besides, adding useless chemicals might have changed the ending results."

Medulla chuckled, "Oh, I do not doubt your reasons, lad. However, this is something truly unexpected."

"Unexpected? Try irrational."

"That too," he replied in his usual scholarly tone, "but science at times tends to be unreasonable."

"By exhibiting dramatic cellular change?" Ethan asked in disbelief. "Then how are we to control such a phenomenon?"

A pregnant pause. "We don't."

~/\\~

Joi could feel the water seeping into her clothing as she clutched the unconscious man closer to her, but she couldn't bring herself to care very much. His body was still feverishly hot, heating her own cool flesh and any discomfort she felt was overruled by the pressing need to help him.

His head was being cradled on her forearm, some of his weight transferring onto her thighs. He was too pale. His eyes were closed, but the lids were a bruising color and she couldn't tell where the blood staining his white shirt was coming from. The formation of the jagged red markings on his clothing had appeared shortly after she had hosed him down, materializing like cuts from a dagger onto his skin.

Heaving a dry cough, Joi could still feel the smoke in her lungs. It had all but vanished now and she would have questioned the appearance of it once again this week, but now wasn't the time. Her errant hand grazed his wet cheek, traveling further upward, sweeping along his temple and past his hair line. Her small hand fisted into his tangled hair, the now black-looking strands contrasting against the pale pallor of her fingers.

Her mind had become unthinking, lost, as she lowered her face until her nose was nudged against the left side of his face. Somehow, her body was automatically responding to him, seeking only to comfort and support him even in his comatose state. Her other hand was supporting his heavy weight against her, taking up residence on his lower back. She could smell the smoke on his skin, the _fire_ in his blood, and being so close, could feel the erratic beating of his heart. His pulse under her fingertips was weak and failing, but promised his survival.

He needed help right now.

In thinking it, Joi cursed her muddled thoughts. Reigning in her commonsense, the young woman lowered the unconscious man onto the wet floor, her body screaming at her not to let him go. She desperately wanted to take him into her arms again, her body demanding her compliance and obedience, but she had to get help. Holding him would only stall this.

Once he was completely off her, Joi stood on shaky legs and made her way to the kitchen door, almost slipping on the wet tile. Looking behind her, not wanting to leave him for any amount of time, she took in his prone state, sucked in a deep breath and exited the kitchens, heading towards the only phone in the restaurant.

Joi felt otherworldly as she reached her office and dialed the number her fingers had chosen. She felt outside herself, floating, as she looked down at the doppelganger before her. She often felt that way when in deep meditation, her discipline encouraging such easy bodily abandon and freeing liberation of the soul. It wasn't until the phone was answered on the other line that she felt herself again.

"'lo?" a groggy voice asked incoherently.

"It's Joi," she breathed, the small shock from before leaving her system, replaced instead by panic, "Oh, _Buddha_…Will, I need you to come over right now!"

"Joi?" the voice suddenly sounded wide awake, "Wait, what's going on? Where are you?"

"No time, I need you to come to the _Paper Lantern_ right now, Will. Warren, he…." Her voice caught, the sudden ache in her heart almost causing her to whimper, "He's unconscious. Please, hurry."

Joi could hear another voice talking in the background, assuming it was Layla having woken up. Will responded to whatever his wife had asked him and turned his attention back to her, "We're on our way, Joi. Don't call 911."

It was, in a way, comical. All your life, you're encouraged to dial 911 when an emergency presents itself. When you're in a car accident, when your home has been vandalized, even when it's something like you may have witnessed an odd event take place. And for someone like William Stronghold to blatantly order her not to make such a call must be for a very good reason.

The image of smoke, of plants coming to life and tables almost collapsing after having its legs squeezed under a harsh grip brought Joi into awareness. She understood it now.

"I won't," she promised quietly.

"Hang tight, Joi." The line went dead.

Lowering the phone and letting it dangle from her hand, Joi closed her eyes and allowed the breath she had been holding to escape her mouth.

~/\\~

"Layla, call Ethan. Let him know that I will be up there shortly." Will spoke hurriedly to his wife, almost tripping at how fast he was stepping into his pants. Shrugging on an oversized t-shirt, he turned to his wife and took her thin shoulders into his hands, "I'll fly on ahead, take Abby with you and follow after me. I have a feeling Joi isn't going to stay waiting for us to return on dry land patiently. If she asks to come-"

"I'll welcome her with open arms," Layla replied easily, her large eyes innocently looking up at him.

"Layla…"

Ignoring the warning in her husband's voice, Layla raised her hand to his neck and pulled his head towards her own. Kissing him gently, she nibbled teasingly on his lower lip and ran her tongue over the lip she was currently feasting upon. At first he was like marble against her, his lips unmoving and harsh against her own lips. She felt the instant he complied and returned her affection, felt his strong hands at her waist, felt the fingers that lingered over her womb and the warmth of being held by the only man she had ever loved.

Distracted by the heat of the moment and the sweet taste of his pregnant wife, Will almost forgot all about his needed departure. However, he did manage to slowly disengage his body from hers. Looking down at her, he chuckled when she attempted to bring him back down for another lingering kiss. Instead, he dodged her lips and kissed her right on the spot where she liked it.

At feeling his hot tongue on her throat, Layla moaned pathetically. Damn him for knowing her weak spots! "Will…" she panted.

Pulling away and smiling roguishly at his lovely wife, Will winked at her seductively, "Another time, perhaps."

"I'll be sure to remind you. Now get going before I jump you and don't think I won't!" She smiled and her eyes turned from playful to serious, "I hope he's alright."

"Me too, sweetheart." Turning, Will made his way to the window and opened it hastily, stepping out into the cool night. Closing his eyes briefly, he felt his feet already lifting off the ground in preparation for his flight. He usually never flew without his costume and mask to keep his identity a secret, but he doubted Joi would be happy with a famed superhero stepping into her restaurant and asking her to hand over Warren Peace. Somehow, he knew she had designated herself as Warren's protector, as strange a concept it may seem.

The slip of a woman was in no position to protect anyone, but he knew, from firsthand experience, that women tended to be surprising and rather aggressive when the time called for it. Layla herself was vicious when the need arose for it and she herself was the most serene and passive of persons he had ever known and not just because she was his wife, but he honestly had never met anyone as gentle-hearted as his love.

Readying himself, Will watched as Layla exited their home through the front door, tugging a still sleepy Abigail dressed in kitty pajamas behind her. They both entered her small, green Beetle and before they drove out of the driveway, he was already in the air and flying at blinding speeds through the skies.

The feeling of flying was difficult to describe since humans were never meant to experience such wonder. Out of both if his powers, Will enjoyed this one the most. Super-strength had its perks, the ability to bend and destroy anything that came his way, but it was something he had to be careful with at all times. He could never lose himself in it, as he did in flying. Flying had always come second-nature to him.

His mother had understood his love of flight when he had discovered this ability in his freshman year at Sky High. The knowing, more than anything, gave him such a rush. Knowing that while others had to remain rooted to the ground, or fly metal contraptions to simulate flight, he could so easily do it, far simpler than birds that have to flap their wings and rely on the wind to catch to give them flight.

All he had to do was want it and he was already soaring higher into the heavens.

Flying in the direction necessary to reach the _Paper Lantern,_ Will was merely a blur of movement as he flew at his top speed. Within moments, he was landing before the Chinese restaurant and entering through the doors, Joi must have left them open for him, though he doubted a closed door would have kept him out.

"Joi!" he called out upon entering, listening for the younger woman to call out and thus, he could pinpoint her whereabouts.

"In here!"

Heading towards the sound of her voice, he walked further in until he was almost to the very back of the restaurant. He pushed open the kitchen doors and his gaze met the slightly teary eyes of Joi Li. He noticed that the tiles were slick with water and that both herself and the pyro currently unconscious on the floor were soaked through to the bone. She was sitting close to him on her knees with his hand crushed between her fingers, held close to her chest.

"How did you get here so fast?" she asked, her eyes once again lowering to the man before her.

Will carefully walked closer to them and stood on Warren's right side, "I flew."

Startled, she raised her head and watched as he bended down and began hauling the larger man into his arms. Letting go of Warren's hand when he finally straightened from his crouch, Joi watched as Will lifted him up and easily placed him over his shoulder as if his weight were the same as his daughters.

"Flew? As in flying flew?" Joi asked bewildered, her eyes never leaving the dangling man being held precariously over a shoulder. She was worried for his comfort after all.

Will didn't have time to explain the dynamics of his powers, so he remained quiet and looked for an exit. There was a door near the other side of the kitchen and he swiftly made his way towards it. The weight on his shoulder was nothing if vaguely jarring; he usually didn't go around carrying men after all. Joi followed after them, apparently waiting for an answer.

"Where are you taking him?" Joi asked hurriedly when they made their way out of the kitchens. They were now standing outside, the chilly wind freezing her wet skin.

"Somewhere safe."

"I'm coming with you."

Looking down at the Asian woman before him, he wanted to chuckle at the image she was presenting with her wet clothing, bare feet, and an air of righteousness hovering over her. She had come around and stood before him, blocking his retreat effectively, or so she thought. She was staring up at him now, her dark eyes serious and unwavering.

"I'm coming with you," she repeated, apparently, for his benefit. "And I want the truth. I want to know what has been going on since he came back into our lives."

He somehow had known that she would want that too. He looked her over thoughtfully. She was a practical woman and loyal to-a-fault. They were never confidants to one another, her being closer to Layla after all, but he liked her. She was candid and principled. If he had to trust any citizen with his secrets, she would be the most likely candidate.

"Layla is on her way," he replied instead, shifting the pyro's weight on his shoulder, "I'll take care of him for you until you get there."

_Until I get where? _She thought to herself and was about to ask him out loud, but at that moment the tawny-haired man shot up into the sky and for a long time Joi stood there watching as they flew away.

_Did he just…fly?_

Shaking her head, Joi took in a shallow breath. _He did fly, didn't he?_ More confused than ever before, Joi was nearing the point of hysteria. Entering the kitchens once again, she locked the door and made to leave. The floor was still wet, but she honestly wasn't up for drying it. It would dry on its own anyways. She might as well be ready for when Layla came to get her.

Getting her bag from the office, Joi replaced the shoes she had taken off and stuffed her stockings in her bag. She turned off the lights and closed the restaurant, just as Layla's unmistakable green Buggy came up to the curve. Not waiting for the red-haired woman to call her over, Joi made her way to her and got into the passenger's side.

"How is he?" Layla asked the moment she was seated, taking in her soaked clothing. "What happened, Joi?"

Joi looked over her shoulder, seeing Abigail's small frame stretched out in the back seat. She was clutching her favorite stuffed animal, a blue-grey manatee she had gotten that year at the seaquarium. Its whiskered face was squashed up into her jaw, as she squeezed the toy in her sleep.

"Joi?" Layla asked. "Are you alright?"

Joi turned to her friend and sighed, "I don't know. Can we please go?" She felt as if her brain was going to explode with all the things that had happened today. She could feel a headache making its annoying presence known.

Understanding washed over Layla and she worried if her friend would be able to take another supernatural surprise from this night. "Of course, but I should warn you, this car flies."

_I think a flying car is the least of my worries right about now. _"So does your husband."

Layla looked startled at first, surprised that Will had allowed her to see him fly off, but quickly shook it off and smiled, "Oh yeah, he tends to do that too."

And with that, the plant-loving woman activated the cloaking of the car and began pushing familiar buttons to sprout the wings on the Beetle's sides. Joi watched on in slight fascination as the little car began to fly higher and higher into the night sky, as if it were a mini jet plane.

As they flew between the clouds, Joi broke the silence that had fallen between the two friends, "Layla, I want to know the truth. All of it."

Layla glanced at her from the corner of her eye and nodded. If anything else, the young woman deserved an explanation. "Well, there is quite a bit to tell."

"What is happening to Warren?"

"That's what we are trying to find out, Joi. We don't know either. It's why he ran away in the first place." Layla sighed tiredly and ran her palm over her swelling womb. "You know we're not exactly 'normal,' right? We'll where we are going now is the school we went to together. It's a school for super children, the sons and daughters of superheroes."

_The sons and daughters of superheroes…_

"That means-"

"That we're superheroes? Yeah, I guess it does. Well, Will is anyways. I'm a healthy pacifist and refuse to use my powers for violence," Layla explained, looking at her daughter through the rearview mirror.

All this time and she never realized. Joi knew that something was strange about the Strongholds, even that they had powers, but never that they were the masked heroes of Maxville; the ones who sacrificed themselves for the town, the ones who maintained the balance between good and evil.

Warren was one too. That meant his mother was one and so was Abigail. The concept that the people she had seen day in and day out were superheroes was so strange, yet not so strange. She had somehow subconsciously_ known_ that this was truth, that these people were supernatural and had a secret to protect.

"Victoria?"

"She can teleport and has superstrength like Will. Usually supers only ever have one power, but Will is the first to ever have the powers of both his parents. Abigail inherited this from him."

"Steve and Josie Stronghold?" Joi asked, referring to Will's parents which she had met a few times.

"The Commander and Jetstream themselves," Layla said with humor, watching Joi cough on nothing but air when the words left her mouth.

"_The _Commander and Jetstream are Will's parents? Wow…oh _wow_. No wonder he's so…patriotic."

Layla laughed, finding humor even in a situation such as this. She was worried about her pyrokinetic friend, but Joi was distracting her with questions and she was more than happy to answer in any way she could.

"What about Warren? And his mother?" Layla was wondering when she would ask about him, though she was surprised when she asked about Warren's mother.

"Well, his mom was once the great Madame Phantom, but she retired many years ago."

"Madame Phantom? Francesca D'Avignon was_ the_ Madame Phantom. Are all you the children of legends, or something?"

"No, not really. My own parents were low-level supers, not at all as famous as Will's."

Turning back to her flying, Joi noticed that Layla had not said what superpower Warren had. She was about to ask her, but Layla beat her by saying that they had arrived. Looking forward once again, Joi took in the view before her.

They were flying before a large landmass that was literally floating on air! From the distance, she could make out the structure planted directly in the middle of the grounds. It reminded her of any regular high school and it was probably built that way on purpose. It was supposed to be a place for higher learning, with the added benefit that it would train the future superheroes of the town.

Joi wondered if all around the world, institution such as these existed.

She couldn't see that well since the school was covered in shadows, caused by the night. Layla flew closer still, parking her small car near the building. Removing the cloaking device, allowing the car to be visible and deactivating the wings, the Volkswagen Beetle returned to its previous standard, not at all flying, mode.

Layla gently roused her daughter, whispering that they were here. "Abigail…Abby…"

The little girl opened her own sapphire eyes slowly, blinking back sleep. She brought the stuffed animal closer to herself and shook her head, making whimpering noises that would cause anyone alarm and abandon their current task in waking her.

However, Layla was immune to her daughter's manipulations.

"Let's go, Abigail."

The little super shook her head again and refused to sit up. Layla sighed and was going to resort to backhanded means to get her daughter moving, but Joi surprised her.

"Queen Victoria, may I offer you my official chariot services?"

A few minutes later, the three of them were making their way past Sky High, heading towards the little clinic Joi had not seen before. Layla walked slowly beside her, determined to make it to the others. Joi walked quietly beside her and a rather spoiled little girl enjoyed her current spot on the young woman's back.

Snuggling into the warmth provided, Abigail rested her head against Joi's shoulder-blade and lightly slept as they entered the Clinic for Heroes.

~/\\~

Author's Notes: The Green Beetle is back! I had fun making Professor Medulla's name really long, it gives him more character and an air of sophistication. Yeah, the Mad Scientist's name is Cornelius!

Made the chapter alittle longer just for you guys! Thank you all for the reviews and keep reading!

Now Joi knows about the supers, just not Warren's power! I wonder how things will turn out?


	15. Ch 15: Secret Subconscious Talents

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.15: Secret Subconscious Talents 

When Will Stronghold walked past the doorframe of Ethan's office, he was ordered politely by the tall, dark gentleman to deposit his patient onto the surgical bed already made ready for the charge currently dangling from the super's shoulder.

Nodding at receiving his orders, Will moved his unconscious friend from his awkward perch and stretched him out on the blue sanitation paper, watching warily as the good doctor reached for the tools made ready near him and took up a pair of stainless steel scissors.

"Rough night, Stronghold?"

Will hadn't even noticed that Ethan had had company over before he had been called and made aware of the night's newest development concerning his patient. Professor Medulla watched curiously over the proceedings, his infinite wisdom and inquisitive nature taking in the bleeding and certainly unresponsive body of one of the many students he had taught over the years. _Ah yes, the root of our current dilemma…_

"Understatement, Professor," was Will's reply, taking in the sight of one of the maddest men to have ever come into existence. Intelligent no doubt, but mad all the same. The old professor had changed very little since last they met, his eyes still large and dark in their slight insanity, along with the large cranium that his neck held up in disregard to the laws of gravity, it was just that massive! Will eventually turned his attention back to the proceedings as Ethan quickly and efficiently rid the pyro of his clothing, having cut and ripped them off his body using the surgical scissors.

"Why was he drenched, Will? He looked as if he had been hosed down," Ethan commented, never taking his eyes off his work. He had gloved up and began cleaning at the newly opened wounds traveling all along the pyro's body. The cuts were superficial at best, not having enough time to dig further into his skin, so were easily cleansed with sterile water and dabbed with iodine. The bleeding had ceased shortly after, no fear of excessive blood loss.

"He probably was," the superhero shrugged, "I really didn't stop to ask questions."

Grunting his acknowledgement, Ethan ignored the two men in the room and when he was sure the pyro's injuries were properly treated, he placed a thin blanket over him, effectively covering his exposed lower extremities and preserving the man's dignity. He did a few other short analyses on him as well, including checking for a good, solid pulse and his eye dilation.

When he was done, Ethan breathed a deep sigh of relief and removed the gloves on his hands. "Dear God in heaven," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. At the expecting glances he was receiving from his peers, he turned to them slowly, "He'll be alright, if not alittle confused when he wakes again."

"This is a rather interesting turn of events, my dear lads. Very curious that it happened on the night that I was summoned from my pleasant dreams and asked to give my scholars opinion regarding a drop of blood. Very curious, indeed," Medulla's voice trailed off in thought.

"There is nothing curious about it and you know it, Professor. Whatever happened this night was the catalyst to his blood's reaction only a few moments ago. Are you sure you don't know what happened, Will?" Ethan asked, turning his attention to his childhood friend.

The tawny-haired man merely shook his head, "Like I said I didn't have time to ask questions. But don't worry, I have no doubt you'll get your answers soon enough."

Bemused, Ethan's dark eyes narrowed in puzzlement as he glanced at the unconscious pyro. "Well, I doubt he will be able to answer my questions anytime soon."

Will's eyes twinkled in amusement, but he otherwise stayed silent. If he knew the Asian woman at all, she was most likely with his wife and child heading towards the school grounds as they speak. He wouldn't be surprised if they were already here, being the headstrong women that they were.

Including the shorter, teleporting one.

And as if having summoned them, the three men heard the front door to the clinic being opened and the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. A few short minutes later, a shocking head of red hair passed through the doorframe, followed by a head of black hair and another head of golden-brown. The two women stood together, taking in the sight before them.

Layla was the first to step forth, taking hold of her husband's hand and turning towards the good doctor. "Ethan, how is he?" Her blue eyes rested on the unconscious man only a few feet from her, a gentle frown tugging at her lips at seeing his still comatose state.

"Better." Ethan's gaze, however, was focused on the Asian woman still standing by the doorway, carrying behind her back one dozing Abigail Victoria Stronghold. "Joi?"

The young woman's dark eyes rested on his and a sad smile crossed her features. "I would ask, but surprisingly right now I just want to make sure he's going to be alright." And it was true, after the night's bizarre and supernatural events, she wasn't in any state of mind to ask why her best friend's half-brother was present in the room. She had known that Ethan Hawk was a medical doctor, but apparently he was much more than that. They all were and having found out the complete truth regarding their identities only a few moments ago, Joi was feeling a little backlash from all the sudden information.

To say that it was a surprise seeing Marie's friend from college here in his office would be an understatement. He wasn't aware that the girl had known about them. Honestly, he was thoroughly confused as to her role in the night's misadventure.

"I don't recall ever seeing you, young lady. Care to explain your presence here tonight?" The intelligent eyes that watched her, weighing her reactions and body language, belonged to a man who was nearing his sixties and reminded Joi of a cartoon character with his large head and bugged-out eyes.

His very presence was rather comical and a walking contradiction. But he was polite and Joi was never one to be rude. "We have never meet, Sir. I would've remembered," she turned towards Layla and Will, wondering what else she should say. She shifted Abigail's dead weight, trying her best not to wake the slumbering girl.

Will had watched on in slight amusement as Medulla courteously interrogated Joi, but took the opportunity now to take his daughter off her hands. He dropped his arm from around his wife's shoulders and stepped forward to intercept his child, gently removing her from Joi's back and allowing her to automatically snuggle into his arms, "Ethan was just asking me what had happened tonight, maybe you can fill in the blanks for us. I'm not even sure myself what happened."

"Warren has been experiencing frequent attacks as of late, it could be possible that it was a repeat of the one he had dealt with earlier this week on his return to Maxville, or something else entirely." Ethan's calculating eyes pierced her as shrewdly as his mentors had done, "I must admit that I am surprised to find you here, Joi, more so surprised that you may be connected to the proceedings of this night. How exactly have you come to be present?"

Joi could feel the wondering gazes resting on her and she returned their stares, wondering at the perplexity her life had taken. "We were working together tonight," she explained softly, her eyes drifting towards the body she _knew_ was his, even though he was half hidden behind the towering presence of the doctor and mad scientist. She didn't really want to talk, her whole body practically thrumming with adrenaline and raw need. She so desperately wanted to reach out to those tan fingers and confirm their warmth. To see him so destroyed, just like that first night, left her heart hurting and demanding immediate action of her part.

She knew so little about this, about _him_, that she could only stand demurely before them and trust. Trust that they would find a way to prevent this from ever happening again. After all…they _were_ superheroes.

Her ill mind settled for now and with shoulders set the young woman described what has transpired that fated night. How she had raced into the kitchens to find her busboy, whom had been perfectly normal throughout the whole night, convulsing and howling in pain from the kitchen floor. She explained how the room had steadily filled with the smoke trailing from his body and how at the last minute she had hosed him down and half the kitchen with water from the sink nearby. She also told them, as she held him, how unbearably warm his skin had felt even after all that water. Then after she had called Will's home and begged him to come over to help.

Her body trembling slightly, Joi closed her eyes and knew that every detail was essential and she would gladly tell all those present her own personal secrets in order to ensure his recovery. Breathing in deeply, the dark-haired woman whispered her strange and unsettling secret.

When she reopened her eyes, it was to meet different reactions from everyone within the room. Will had his head tilted to the side and if his hand had been free- for Abigail still rested leisurely across his arms- he would have been scratching at his head, utterly baffled. Layla was in less a shock and appeared merely curious, a strange light in her ocean eyes. The strange man that had been with Ethan and Will before their arrival was openly scrutinizing her, making small noises from within his throat as he assessed her and evaluated her confession.

Ethan was the one who spoke first, "How long has this been happening, Joi?"

"Since the night I found him."

"And you haven't told anyone else? Does Warren know?"

"No," she breathed, her eyes descending to the ground in shame. She should have told him, but it seemed so trivial, nothing to be mentioned. And knowing how guarded the man was towards her, she didn't doubt that one word to him would have sent him scurrying out her front door and out of her life for good. She didn't want to bother him with something as small as this.

But if the reaction around the room was anything to go by, then this matter was much more complicated then she first considered.

"Joi," it was Layla's soothing voice, "do you know what it is? How it _feels_?"

For a moment, Layla thought the younger woman hadn't heard her or didn't have an answer, she was about to ask something else, but just then Joi's pale hand lifted and settled over her stomach.

"It is…_powerful_," she licked her suddenly dry lips and tried to recall the feeling of that warm candle invading her senses. "It is all-consuming. It just spreads throughout me like something uncontrollable, something…_wild." _Her hand fisted over her clothed abdomen as she shivered, "It has only happened a few times and I'm not sure why exactly it happens, but I know that it has something to do with Warren. It only started happening when he came back to Maxville. It happened tonight; _it_ warned me even before his screams did."

She was still trembling, her mind racing. It wasn't the first time she thought something was terribly wrong with her, but she highly doubted that deep down she had some hidden superpower wanting out. The thought almost made her laugh outright. No, she had no alternate ego that she was aware of. She was just a citizen, thrown into the secret world of masked crusaders.

_Right?_

"It appears young lady that you are something of an anomaly, not so much unlike Mister Peace. Have you not considered that you may have some subconscious talent, so to speak?" The professor suggested in his remote, almost robotic-like voice.

"She did find out about us way before she saw our powers," Will intoned, still bemused by her admission.

"I knew you two were different because I saw _proof_. I would catch Layla at times using her gift on the flowers at the _Paper Lantern_ and one time you crushed a table's leg with your hand," she replied, her dark-eyes boring into Will's. "I don't have a _subconscious_ _talent_, I just knew where to look, that's all."

"Then how would you explain your bodies reactions to the unrestrained pyrokinetic powers of Mister Peace if not something subconscious that wills you to _feel_ the fire as he does, to _seek_ him out?"

"I-I don't know," her gaze leveled with the mad scientist as she shifted her feet, "I didn't know Warren was a fire user, but I do not feel the fire as he does. The f-fire has never hurt me," she explained, recalling how much pain he had been in this night when it had taken over him. It all made terrible sense now. His state when she had found him all those days ago in the dirty alleyway in the middle of the night and the constant heat of him. It explained how her candle manifested itself within her as pure heat and fire. With such blaring facts, she should have realized it sooner.

"For now Joi's eh _talent_ is not important, Warren is. Tonight we made a discovery. It is the reason why Professor Medulla is present," his familiar tone used around company dropped and his voice took on the reserved speech of persons in the medical and scientific fields. "I was studying Warren's blood tonight under microscope when around ten o'clock the drop of blood began to show great cellular activity. The blood cells, completely free of white blood cells, plasma, and foreign matter, were strangely discoloring and expanding, as water tends to do when it is boiling. When Professor Medulla arrived, the cells were just nearing the edge of the glass when suddenly it _stopped_. Just stopped and the drop of blood remained as expanded as it was and did not return to its original state until a full twenty minutes later.

I believe, greatly so, that this is causing Warren's skin lacerations. I, however, do not know quite yet if it is his powers causing the blood to react to such a dangerous degree, or if it is the blood itself causing such disorder to his powers. I would need to further study him in a controlled environment and his blood and run some more tests…"

"It was around ten o'clock when it happened," Joi confirmed, "I know because we were already closed for the day."

"I had a feeling it was so. The blood was reacting to what was happening miles away to the source, more reason to understand and test why it is occurring," Medulla noted drolly.

"You sound visibly pleased about it, Professor?" Layla admonished, sucking her teeth in disapproval.

"I do regret what is happening to Mister Peace, Misses Stronghold. I would never wish this agony upon anyone, much less one of my own students. However this is a very rare and delicate case, it curves my voracious intellectual appetite to tear through this scientific break and accumulate necessary evidence and assessments, not only to help our pyro, but to provide a golden opportunity for _future_ pyro's who may experience the same."

"In other words, you want to make Warren your lab rat?"

"Not as crude as all that, Mister Stronghold."

~/\\~

An incessant jabbing at his nose brought the unconscious pyrokinetic back into the land of the living.

When he managed to open his still slightly blurry eyes, he was met with the sight of a rather strange looking creature with beady eyes, a large nose, and…whiskers?

"Say hello to Rufus."

_Rufus?_

"Rufus, this is Scary-Mister-Meany-Pants!

_Meany-Pants?_

A small, _annoying_ cry escaped the brat as Warren warily rubbed at his eyes and slowly began trying to sit up. He wondered foggily when Stronghold's brat decided to disturb his sleep on his couch/bed. It wasn't until he had managed to fully sit up that he took in his surroundings. He sure wasn't at Joi's.

_What happened?_

"Victoria, go find the doctor for me, will you? Tell him his patient is awake."

Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, Warren heard the scampering of small feet leading away from him and suddenly his senses were aware of someone nearing him. A cool hand landed tentatively on his shoulder, being mindful of his still open scars. His wounds barely made him flinched anymore, the care was unnecessary. Another hand took hold of the one near his face and gently lifted it away and placed it over his thigh, the hand squeezing his without letting go.

He had been holding his breath and when he exhaled and began to breathe evenly, the rich scent of femininity and calmness filled him so completely and unexpectedly that he felt himself leaning forward towards the smell that was both enticing and comforting.

He was met with a wall.

Opening his eyes once more, noticing that the blurriness was gone, Warren stared forward and his vision swam in the endless darkness that belonged to one slightly befuddled Joi Li Feng.

The girl's cheeks were dusted with a soft rose coloring as she stared into his own eyes, their foreheads and noses touching. He wondered when she had taken a seat before him. He hadn't felt the bed dip to accommodate her weight.

They did not speak for fear that words would strain the moment. They sat their studying each other in silence, their breaths mingling with each other.

It was when Joi closed her eyes and leaned further into him, the hand on his shoulder sliding smoothly over his collarbone that Warren noticed he was completely naked.

Joi felt the moment he tensed.

She was enjoying the closeness of him, feeling his breath on her lips, knowing that he was alive and well. She felt reassured somehow when her fingers tightened over his hand and his forehead had pressed to hers tiredly. She wanted to pull him closer, to soothe him and his own worries, but his current nudity and knowing that he would be _highly_ displeased with her if she coddled him like a toddler dissuaded her. Sighing, the Asian woman opened her eyes and smiled, nuzzling his nose in a familiar greeting and a bit of teasing childishness.

The two weren't aware of their audience as they remained absorbed in their own little world.

Ethan, Layla and Abigail stood by the doors entrance watching the intimate scene before them with mixed feelings. Ethan felt like a Peeping Tom even though nothing perverse was happening before him. He was highly uncomfortable. Layla, on the other hand, had a sweet smile gracing her rosy lips and felt that fluttery feeling in her gut when she was engrossed in a good romance novel or watching a lovey-dovey movie as her little girl was prone to say.

And Abigail, well she was wondering how her servant could stand to have her face so close to that of Scary-Mister-Meany-Pants!

A truly brave servant, Queen Victoria concurred as she hugged her stuffed manatee, Rufus.

~/\\~

It wasn't much later that Will returned with some of his clothes from home, not completely trusting his daughter's teleportation from so high a place off the ground as Sky High and also the fact that she was a little girl and shouldn't be sorting through his underwear drawer.

She might want to know why his boxer briefs weren't like hers or mommies.

He found himself standing outside Ethan's office, a brow raised at seeing the slight embarrassed blush on the doctor's usually brown skin. His wife had her eyes glued to whatever was happening inside that little room and his daughter had a particularly proud smile that did not look very sweet at the moment.

Since Ethan was the closest, he whispered to the man, "Why are we standing here?"

"_Shh_," his wife and daughter hushed at the same time, similar blue eyes narrowing in on his noise-making.

"Sorry."

They briskly turned their eyes back to whatever was happening and sighed, apparently snapping out of their little moment. How odd?

Ethan cleared his throat and decided that enough with the eavesdropping and began making his way into the room, the family of Stronghold's swiftly following suit.

The pyro watched them wearily, having finally noticed where he was, though he didn't know how he had gotten there. He remembered faintly bits and pieces of the night, though he was almost positive that he had had an attack while working. And he was surprised to see Joi here, in a superhero clinic in a campus that was strictly meant to be kept a secret from all citizens.

She had simply disregarded his concern and said she had as much a right to be here as any superhero.

Which had led to a short narrative of what had happened that night and of what she recently had learned from the Hippie on her _flight _over here after Stronghold had _flown_ him over after his _episode_.

That was when everyone else had filed into the room, except for the large-brained Professor who had taken his leave for the night. His brain had been humming with wonderful theories and future laboratory experiments as he bid his farewells and made his way home. He would sleep happily tonight!

Ethan had offered some coffee for everyone after Will had left to get the pyro some clothes and accepting the idea of something to help keep her awake, Layla had followed him out of the room, though Ethan had given her a disapproving look for drinking caffeine while pregnant.

Layla had merely smiled indulgently and asked Joi to watch over the pyro, since she had politely declined Ethan's offer. Her daughter in turn- who had awaken from her nap a few minutes before Will left- stated that she would guard her servant and watch over _her_ while the others were away.

And now everyone stood around the pyro, making him feel a bit uncomfortable.

Smiling understandingly, Will tossed the pyro his clothes, "Thought you would like something to change into, since your clothes were unsalvageable."

"I didn't realize your vocabulary had improved to slightly bigger words, Stronghold," Warren commented dryly.

With a bark of laughter, Will shook his head and placed his hands on his hips, "Never change, do you Peace? A perk, you will, from the family business."

The pyro in turn flashed a small smirk and stared blankly at everyone, hoping they'd get the picture and leave so he could change in privacy. Everyone filed out of the room at his pointed stare, except for Ethan who stayed planted before him with wiry arms crossed over his broad chest.

Warren's brow rose, "Didn't think you were interested, Popsicle."

Ethan snorted, but the severity in his gaze did not waver. He began much like he had with the others only a few moments ago.

"I made a discovery today I think you would be interested in hearing."

~/\\~

Author's Note:

I cannot express how sorry I am that this chapter took nearly four months to come up with. I had written a few pages earlier in the year, but something kept stalling me from finishing it. Life, I guess, had other plans for me.

Now I hope everyone is fulfilled with the new chapter and hopefully more to come.

If you're wondering how Joi knew what a pyrokinetic was well it is very simple, Maxville is protected (by supers) and tyrannized (by villains) almost on a daily basis. Joi would have to know some proper terms for some powers by now, plus the media and comic books give enough information.

Another point you may be thinking of is why Joi isn't completely against Warren's nudity if she is untouched. Well for one Joi is pretty brazen with the pyro, so it wouldn't surprise me if she did something like that. Second, Joi has a sickly uncle whose muscles are deteriorating. He would need help bathing most of the time, so one would think she had helped her aunt on a few occasions bath her uncle. Plus, most women of our generation (and this story takes place in the future approximately 2015/2016 because of the time lapse of ten years and such) are mostly aware of the male anatomy and less shocked by it.

I hope the unexpected fluff is to your liking! It will be a while before true romance will come through, but alittle cunningly placed sweetness never hurt anyone now did it? Nah, didn't think so!

Next chapter in comes Zach and Magenta! Hope you're ready! It is going to be one crazy chapter!


	16. Ch 16: Neutral Glow

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.16: Neutral _Glow_

"…_I'm sorry, but the voicebox you've dialed is full-"_

The line went immediately dead as the phone was slammed into the receiver. A heavy curse in Xiang dialect pursued and then a grave sigh.

"_Do not worry yourself, my love. I am sure she is alright,"_ Joao Angel Di Paolos comforted, his tired eyes dropping slowly as he leaned his head against the back of his most worn-in armchair. It was a dreadful, battered thing that had seen better days, but an old man such as himself had little extravagances left to indulge in.

"_How can I not worry, husband? I have been calling for over an hour now and she has yet to answer! The last time she didn't answer her phone was when she was harboring men into her apartment in the ungodly hours of the night!"_ Ming Yue huffed, having the strongest urge to start walking in place. Luckily, she managed to contain it.

One pale eye opened in mild amusement and regarded the volatile woman before him. Just as spirited as the day they met. And just as foul-mouthed too. He found that last thought quite humorous. His little Asian plum had always been a very rare and delectable treat, if but a bit bitter at times. However, he wouldn't want his dearest any other way.

"_I believe it was only the one man and I could hardly call it harboring, Yue. Why I believe you have performed more devious and rebellious stunts in your youth than our little hummingbird has in her adulthood," _the elegant Portuguese man teased in his fluent Cantonese.

"_I-I have never-" _

Ming Yue began defending herself, but at seeing her husband's brow raise challengingly, her self-imposed rant died on her tongue. Instead, a very tender blush crept across her nose at remembering said rebellious stunts, mainly partaken with the highly annoying, incorrigibly foreign, Cantonese-speaking, blindly tender-hearted, _beautiful_, courteous man sitting there on his favorite _disaster_ looking at her and making her feel like a blushing, brash sixteen-year-old girl again.

_Damn that old European charmer._

"_Alright, let us head to bed then, but don't think for one moment that I won't be having a good talking to with that girl as soon as I decide at what time preferably to go stampeding into her apartment tomorrow!"_ Ming Yue warned with a pointed look to her husband.

And while Joao Angel Di Paolos stood carefully, being mindful of his weak legs and Ming Yue assisted him into his wheelchair, the television sadly went unnoticed by the two. It was abuzz with the muted voices of Maxville's own golden duo reporting the breaking news at eleven.

~/\\~

"You look fantastic by the way."

Giving his friend a rather pointed look and reigning in the urge to follow with a crude gesture, Warren Peace turned his attention back to the looming building before him.

"…Glow?"

There was a clear note of exasperation in his voice.

"Hmm, kinda appropriate when you think about it," Will replied, slapping a heavy hand onto the pyro's shoulder, making his friend grit his teeth from the forceful manhandling. "Well, are we just going to stand out here and enjoy the moonlight or are we going in?" The super's eyes hardened momentarily, "Are you _sure_ about this, Warren?"

The pyro's lips turned down in a frown before briefly nodding. "As ready as I'll ever be. Let's get this over with."

When Ethan had fully explained to his patient earlier that night the newest developments regarding his blood, Warren had visibly stilled; blunt fingers smoothing over an edge of the white linen draped over his waist. The angry scars, red with iodine, had stretched across the planes of his tan chest as his breath had rattled into his still smoke-strained lungs. The pyro had lost himself in thought as the good doctor studied him, adjusting his rim-less glasses onto the perch of his nose.

"Professor Medulla believes that with some more controlled testing we can better assess your powers and the lapses between that lead to your loss of control. It will take time, but with patience we can-"

"No."

"No?" Ethan challenged, "Warren you accepted to become my patient. I warned you of the things we would have to do in order to find a solution, a cure to your violent demonstrations of power. Without careful examination and constant controlled labs to test your hold over it, how then do you suggest we help you? Hire a spiritualist? Consult with the dead? Offer sacrifices to remote Gods?"

He had expected his idiotic and senseless suggestions to get through to the pyro's thick skull and enter his reasonable, intelligent mind and make him understand that there was no other way. If ten years of running away from it had yet to help him, then what was his loss in allowing a fellow super and close friend from trying? Why was he being so damn stubborn?

Fire-users, Ethan mentally grumbled.

The troubled man had given his watcher a scathing look, one that reminded the doctor very much of the old pyro who wore a similar look and even fiercer scowl like a kin's medieval coat of arms back when they were both but children. It strangely pleased him to see such a familiar look again, even though it was directed at _him_.

Relenting, the melting man had sighed, "Fine, what then do you have in mind?"

Warren Peace had acknowledged his surrender, knowing that it must have been hard for the doctor to give up his full reign when it came to his patient's wellbeing. He had slid his legs to the edge of the surgical bed under the covers and had stood delicately, straightening as he stood before his self proclaimed protector- though he was getting tired of everyone dubbing themselves his protector, they were more like watchdogs that guarded his every moment- in all his nudity and thought this would have presented better in intimidation if the doctor had not a three inch height advantage on him.

"If all you can suggest is turning me into a personal hamster, then I might as well try one more thing before I'm proclaimed hopeless."

"And that would be-?"

"…I know a man that may be able to help me." He had spoken in dry resentment, "Or at the very least, show enough interest to give me some advice."

Ethan had seemed skeptical at his obvious discomfort. "Who?"

"My father."

To say Ethan was surprised by his suggestion was an understatement. He had been rendered speechless for a few good minutes. His father? The renowned supervillain known as Barron Battle, one of Maxville's most feared and ruthlessly hunted mass murders and all around bad-guy? That father? Surely the man was joking. "I think you should get dressed, Warren." God knew the cold might be giving him brain damage.

The pyro had not fought him and dressed quietly as the doctor walked towards his desk, staring blanking down at the papers littering his desk. When he had dressed in the things Will had brought him, mourning the loss of his newly purchased work clothes, and pulling on the black shoes that managed to survive with relatively little damage, if not a bit water-clogged, he had walked towards the doctor and waited for him to turn to him.

"I need someone to take me."

"Warren, I don't think seeing _him_ will help solve anything."

"I need someone to take me," the pyro relentlessly pursued. "I wouldn't be thinking of seeing him if I didn't think he'd know something. He_ is_ a pyrokinetic, after all."

"A pyrokinetic? Sure. A philanthropist? I highly doubt it."

"Popsicle." At the strange note of pleading, Ethan paused. "I have no choice."

The dark-skinned man wished to argue his point further, he did have a choice, he didn't have to go looking for a man that would cloud his judgment and would most probably end up conflicting him. Did the pyro really need to see such a foul man, even if he was his father?

Ethan would like to believe he didn't, but sometimes the call of blood was too strong to overlook. "I can't get you into _Ground Zero_," he had said slowly, his dark eyes hard against the smooth skin of his face, "but, I _do_ know someone who may know someone that can get you in for a visit. It will not be easy, the prison is tightly enforced after all, but he has gotten quite_ resourceful_ when it comes to breaking the rules and finding ways around the system."

Not to mention the questionable living he carried on with.

Now it was Warren's turn to ask, "If you recommend them, then they must be good enough. Who is it?"

The good doctor's smile had been completely unexpected, "Zachary Braun."

And while he had found it difficult to think that the same highlighter and glowworm from Sky High was now some kind of master informant in the underground world of Maxville, Ethan had suggested for Will to take him to Zach's night club if he so desperately wished to see his father again. Will ridiculously agreed, saying that he hadn't seen his other good friend in quite a while. They were both worried about the pyro, but Warren had assured them that he was fine. He too was curious about his old friend.

Layla, Joi and Abigail had taken leave soon after, though the Asian woman and Hippie didn't seem pleased that he was going to stay out when he clearly needed to recover from the nights endeavors. Layla especially gave her husband a dark look when he had whispered to her where they were going. The woman couldn't help but be alittle bitter towards the man who wore blinding swim trunks to her wedding and hurt one of her best friend's heart.

When the women had cleared off, Ethan had closed up the clinic and wanted nothing more than to go home to his small townhouse apartment and pet goldfish, Merlin- who has miraculously lived, even with the doctor's neglectful feeding at times- and land face-first into his bed. Waving the two off, the good doctor headed towards his navy-blue BMW and promptly flew off.

Warren wasn't much of a flyer, be it on an airplane or being promptly transported through the skies by one William Stronghold. They had landed quickly on solid ground a few blocks away from Zach's night club without being seen by citizens. The cloak of night helped them blend into the buildings and remain inconspicuous to passersby.

As they began walking, Will deemed it necessary to warn Warren that Zach's night club wasn't just a _night club_, but a sort-of sanctuary and neutral ground for superheroes _and_ villains.

"He caters to both sides now?" Warren couldn't help but ask.

"Well…more like he caters to _himself_ and doesn't choose sides." Will didn't understand his friend all that much either, but he wasn't a bad man. In fact, thanks to Zach, he had a good source of information on various villains, but everything came with a price with the blond now. He was a business man after all and a neutral party. He couldn't afford to supply information to just one side.

"Sounds like the glowworm turned into a gutless coward while I was away," Warren said gruffly. "What makes you think he doesn't go behind your back to sell information to the other side too?"

"Because if he did, I would know about it," the super confirmed, having come to a stop across the street from the club. The loud, techno music could be heard from all the way across the street even though the building only had one side door hidden between an alley. The building was ordinary as far as buildings went with only the large neon sign _Glow_ hinting to its true nature.

Warren came to when he noticed he was standing alone on the sidewalk, the superhero was already across the street and was beckoning him over. The pyro crossed the deserted street without difficulty, the cool night air trailing over his skin and teasing the stray strands of his loose hair. Once he was reunited with his friend, the two began entering the dark alleyway, cutting a clear path towards the bouncer guarding the only entrance/exit.

The man was large, not even his two hands could probably go around that thick neck. He was built like a tank with trunk-like thighs and rippling muscles that would scare off any lesser human. He was obviously a citizen, one mostly hired to watch the front and intimidate any wondering souls, though his effective presence would hold little against a truly powerful super.

The man eyed them suspiciously. "What business you have here?" his heavy voice was surprisingly gentle for such an imposing figure.

Will gave the man one of his crooked grins, "Hey Bruce, we're here to see the boss man. Can you let us in?"

Bruce visibly relaxed and he returned the smile, "I barely recognized you, fly man. It's been a while," his glass eye was lifeless and alien against his round face. His one good eye turned to regard Warren, "A friend of yours?"

"That he is. He's good."

Warren wondered how that was so, but didn't push his luck and stayed silent. Bruce needed no more confirmation and closed his hand into a giant fist, bringing it to the door with three quick pounds. The metal door opened briskly and the man moved aside to give them passage.

They entered the dark club as the door closed off behind them.

The music was already grating on Warren's nerves and he had just walked in; the music's tempo pounding against his heart and throat. The two supers walked forward into the chaos that was _Glow_, the dark club lighted by the roving multi-colored lights on the high ceiling and the strips of blue neon lights detailing the décor of the building from the booths and walls to the stair railings.

The actual "club" part of the building was a flight down, where the bar and dance floor were located. Multitudes of bodies were dancing together; a mass of highly intoxicated and overly-sexed men and women moving as one entity. Looking around, the first floor and second floor seemed to be mainly closed off areas where people could sit with each other in privacy to talk and order drinks. People were also loitering around by the railings, talking loudly over the music and laughing insanely to each other in their alcoholic stupors.

He cursed when tremors slowly inched over his body. He was still weak from earlier.

A hand to his shoulder gathered the pyro's attention and Will signaled for him to follow him, heading towards a staircase. Shaking his head, Warren followed after him down the lighted stairs, passing by the bar. Five bartenders were taking orders left and right, taking the money waved in front of their faces from customers and continuing to the next. The bar's counter was also glowing with that electric blue neon color that seemed to be a recurring theme within the club.

If this was what dancing looked like, Warren felt rather grateful that their high school homecoming had been interrupted when it had.

The women were rather indecently dressed and instead of coming off as 'desirable,' they radiated a desperate sort of air; greedy and needy for attention. The men were honestly no better. Some were dressed in such absurd sequencing outfits that made him wonder if these clashing displays truly attracted the opposite sex.

The main attraction appeared to be the three men dressed in all white standing near the center of the throng of dancing bodies. Their light clothing was luminescent with the ground's blacklight as they skillfully twirled mismatching glow sticks between them, the black strings barely seen by the naked eye as they performed their illusions before the crowd. The colorful sticks were creating impressive high arches and the ravers managed to pull off a great number of tricks all within such little space.

And just when he thought it couldn't get any weirder, the dance floor was suddenly being sprayed with thousands of soapy…bubbles?

The dance floor went in an uproar of ecstasy.

Disturbed and feeling strange amongst so many people, Warren continued following Will around the outskirts of the dance floor, until they reached another set of much smaller stairs and began heading further down into the building.

The passageway was low ceilinged and instead of the blue neon, it was decorated in bright yellow lights that instantly made him think of Zach and his eccentric love for the obnoxious color.

They were definitely heading in the right direction.

~/\\~

"…A-And you know what, Zachary? You suck at naming things. First your Labrador, who you named Barky because he barked at cats. Second, your Nicaraguan iguana that you named Lettuce because it liked eating lettuce. Third, your hideous canary yellow car that you named Tweety-"

"Well he reminded me of Tweety bird-!"

"Fourth, your family's fireplace, Sooty-"

"Well it did have soot and will you stop throwing stuff already!"

"Your computer, Turtle!"

"The thing was slower than a turtle and don't throw that! Its limited edition and very rare to find!"

"Your stupid club!"

"Well I do _glow_! And it had a nice ring to it. Now why did you do that? I'm never going to find a duplicate again!"

"So you can come up with stupid names for inanimate objects and pets, but you can't name _this_ as anything, can you?"

"I already told you why I can't-"

"Yeah, because you're a bloody coward and a two-faced jackass! I was with you for six long years, Zach, and not once did you tell me you loved me. You didn't even tell your family about me. You kept me a secret from everyone except our friends and yet you thought you could keep me and that I would always be there even when you refused to call me your freaking girlfriend!"

"Maj's-Magenta, look I'm sorry-"

"Sorry's not good enough anymore, Zachary. I don't know what I was thinking. Why did I ever fall in love with _you_?"

"You don't mean that. I know you don't. Why would you be here, yelling at me and throwing my stuff around in your hissy fit if you still didn't love me-"

"Hissy fit? You insult me while trying to confirm that I still love you? No. I don't think so. I'm fed up with your attitude-"

"My attitude!"

"Yes, your attitude! And your stupid ideals, trying to be 'neutral' that's just being a coward, a spineless, worm of-the-Earth coward! At least I chose a side! I fight for my side!"

"Yeah, you fight alongside that pretty-boy hero of yours, what's his power again? Oh yeah, super-spit?"

"Spiting Cobra is a good partner. We work great together and he has super _acid_ spit, you ass and I don't even know why I'm explaining myself to you!"

"Are we interrupting anything?"

"Yes!" the two angry voices chorused, turning their red faces towards the door. The men milling around the open doorway were watching the two most curiously, like one would be curious about a rabid dog or a blood-sucking bat.

Will imagined from the horrible state of the room and the loud bickering heard from all the way down the hall that the two were at each other's throats again. Seriously, are those two inept when it comes to getting along for more than five minutes? They were as forceful as polar magnets when brought together; pushing and driving the other until they exploded apart. Or, better yet, like little children pushing mud into the others hair and blaming it on the dirt-clod troll.

It troubled him, but he couldn't help but feel such powerful _relief_ in knowing his relationship with his wife was not like this.

Anything was better than_ this_.

Clearing his throat, he smiled with a little force and greeted his longtime friends, "Zach, Magenta, I brought in a stray to see you."

Warren Peace was not amused at being referred to as a flee-ridden mongrel, but he bore it and after his eyes had ghosted over the recently destroyed room, taking in the broken glass and stained walls, his eyes wandered over to the two- now silent- sidekicks.

Magenta "Guinea Pig Shifter" Sunee had changed much since last he saw her. The girl was about the same height, but her once shoulder-length hair was now cropped closer to her scalp and had been dyed a bright fuchsia that contrasted against her copper skin. Her teenage punk rebellion had been swapped for an outlandish and clearly I-don't-give-a-fuck looking apparel. What exposed skin he could see on her arms was covered in ink, the detail, he noted, was rather good. Piercings covered her nose, ears, and lip and she looked very much like a badass who could kick the pants off the wimp standing beside her.

The 'wimp' was actually Zachary "Glowworm" Braun, the man he had come to for help. He had _not_ changed at all. Still had that strange white-blond hair that had been grown out a bit and was currently covered by a side-ways cap. Still about the same height as from what he could tell. Still wore those ridiculously baggy, bright-colored clothes that made him look like a walking highlighter. Still his regular goofy, practical joker self and Warren felt oddly pleased in realizing this.

"My man, Peace! What up, dog?"

Again with the mongrel comment. He felt like growling.

~/\\~

It was late when inmate 29573 roused from his light slumber and felt the slight manifestation of familiar power settling over his abdomen before it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

It was like a flutter of soft wings within the repressed well of power within him.

This same incident had been recurring for almost ten years now, coming and going, but this time it had felt much different. It had felt much…_closer_.

_Could it be…?_

_Warren_

~/\\~

Author's Note:

Now Magenta looks pretty badass to me! Poor Zach, I made him wimpy, but I like their differences together. It sort-of works out, or will work out eventually. That was some fight between them. Trouble in paradise? And there is a reason for everything I write, so if you're worried Zach isn't a good guy anymore, never fear!

Magenta's last name is made up! The movie never specified her last name, but Zach's is truly Braun.

The golden duo is the two news reporter's Ramona Shepherd and Howard Richards who were mentioned in chapter 12.

Why throw Joi's aunt and uncle into the beginning of the chapter? Because they're hilarious and I haven't written about them in a while! And the breaking news was another slight sign of future problems. Uh-Oh!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, more to come! And Warren's a mongrel! Well he does like to growl.


	17. Ch 17: Encountering Awareness

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.17: Encountering Awareness

With a wide yawn, Ethan Hawk walked through the threshold of his townhouse apartment and dropped his keys into the decorative bowl by the entrance.

In the darkness all he could make out was the blue of Merlin's aquarium as the large goldfish swam lazily up and down the tank. Rubbing at his eye from under his glasses, Ethan decided to feed his more-than-likely hungry pet before heading upstairs and showering, the mere thought of actual rest looking promising.

The poor doctor had had a really_ long_ night and he was so ridiculously grateful that tomorrow was Saturday and he could sleep in 'til noon with little consequence and temporarily forget about the world since the clinic was not open on weekends. He might even go visit his parents and Marie and sit through a family dinner.

He hadn't done that in quite a while. His mother would surely approve.

Even though tired and heavy with the night's turmoil regarding his patient, he was brightening at the thought of home and his mother's good cooking. He always enjoyed dropping by and it would be a good opportunity to give his father the handmade balms Layla had made for him. That was sure to put the old man in a good mood.

Though his father was fairly easy to please most of the time when it didn't concern his lack of spouse, children, dog, picket fence, the works really. And his own disregard to his health at times. His mother, no doubt, would point out his (unintentional) weight loss mainly founded by his forgetfulness and workaholic tendencies.

His sister will probably side with them in the beginning and eventually switch off to ogle at his hair at some point in the night, praising her expertise and talent. He had to admit that the cornrolls looked good; Marie did have a knack for it. She always did like braiding his hair when they were younger and the habit hadn't died as they grew into adulthood.

With thoughts of his family clouding his sleepy mind, the dark-skinned man finished downstairs and began heading up to bed, looking forward to his warm shower. He began loosening his tie as he marched up the stairs, pulling it over his head and tossing it onto his bed when he entered his master bedroom. He unbuckled his belt next and tossed it next to his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders until he was only in his sleeveless undershirt. He kicked off his shoes and used his toes to remove his formal black socks and breathed in a sigh of relief when his now bare toes unfurled in the soft carpet. Rolling his neck and running a hand along the tense muscle of his shoulder, he decided to make the shower extra hot to help unwind his body before bed.

As he turned to walk into his bathroom to start up the water, he noticed alittle too late that the bathroom light was on when it should have been _off_ and instead of being empty, save for the few appliances he kept in stock, it was currently occupied by a masked blonde woman dressed snuggly in dark leather and spandex.

Ethan imagined that his facial expression at the moment was a perfect impersonation of his pet goldfish.

The unidentified goddess before him was ravishing in her mystery. He couldn't stop his eyes from traveling over her frame, taking in her exquisite and shapely legs that were outlined tightly by the material of her costume and the swell of her hips that connected her body to those mile-long legs. He took in _hungrily_ her femininity, the perfection of her torso and breasts, the arch of her straight back and the grace of her neck and arms. The cornflower silk of her hair curled around her divinely and the large black mask did little to hide those blue-green eyes that so resembled a Caribbean sea. Even her frowning lips were promising.

_Wait…blue-green eyes…_

And all at once, he knew who this mysterious woman was. How could he not have recognized her? She was dressed in her superheroine getup, all of Maxville knew her and praised her and how could he just stand there and_ devour_ her with his eyes as if she were a piece of meat? But what was she doing here?

And then he noticed the blood.

Ignoring the aching need of his treacherous body, Ethan went into _'doctor mode'_ and stalked towards the woman he seriously needed to get out of his head and even faster out of his apartment before he did something stupid like kiss those frowning, delectable lips.

_I definitely need to get laid. _

Well that thought didn't help matters _at all_.

"What happened, Freeze Girl?"

Julia swore she was going to melt under that hot, heady gaze if he continued any longer in his slow exploration of her body. She couldn't believe that the good doctor was so affected by her,_ now_, when he had remained in perfect control of himself when she had visited him at his clinic. The warm-blooded female couldn't help looking herself, attracted to the smooth, dark skin exposed to her sight and the sinewy muscle of his arms. His wide, full lips and dark eyes were so _expressive_ in their approval of her; she could feel her mouth drying right up and she doubted in her speaking abilities at the moment. His overpowering height only increased his allure and her world crashed down powerfully when he had parted those sinfully beautiful lips and asked her what was the matter.

His voice. Dear God _that_ voice…

She almost forgot why she was there in the first place, his voice had been so rich and smooth, the husky tenor of it reverberating within her very bones and digging into her core. The feel of his skilled fingers probing the fresh wound on her arm forced her back from her thoughts with a wince; he picked up on her pain immediately.

"What happened?" he repeated with unfathomable patience, that _look_ in his eyes gone and replaced with the cool, level-headed doctor she had met a few days ago.

"It's nothing serious, I'm fine. I've had worse cuts than this before. I was just caught off-guard tonight," she defended. "Anyways, I was out patrolling in Downtown when I caught wind of some trouble. There were at least nine of them, street kids that usually keep to themselves, but tonight they were _mad_ with something. They were vandalizing public buildings, neighborhood cars, you name it. Breaking into mom-and-pop drug stores and supermarkets, taking what they could and_ laughing_ as they did it. I got to them before they could go much further and had them frozen to the ground until the proper authorities could arrive to retrieve and incarcerate them, but I had missed one and she came at me with a switchblade. I swear she moved like water and I knew she was aiming for the kill, but I moved out of the way just in time and got this nasty little number running down my arm instead." Her eyes looked over the vertical slash trailing from her forearm to her knuckles, "So young, _too_ young. The girl was barely fourteen."

Ethan was in shock to hear that a couple of homeless children had caused so much uproar in the middle of the night, much less one trying to kill the woman before him. Something wasn't right about this. It just seemed so…random.

"The cops picked them up after a few minutes and for a while they were between raging anger and gleeful anticipation, and then they began crying, big soulful cries that tore at my soul. How this happened, I have no fricking clue. I left and came here," she finished softly, still remembering the slight insanity in the teenager's dead eyes.

"How did you know where to reach me?" Ethan asked neutrally, cleaning at the wound when she had been absorbed in retelling the events of the night. He was finishing up and concluded that the gash wasn't very deep; the triple antibiotic should keep it from infecting and hopefully the girl who attacked her didn't have any diseases that could be spread through blood.

"Superhero, remember? I have my ways," she dismissed by being purposively evasive. "Thanks, Popsicle."

Ethan froze, his eyes had been focused on his current task, but at hearing the nickname bequeathed to him on his freshman year at Sky High by his pyrokinetic friend, he knew, without a doubt, that she remembered him now and she wasn't going to back down.

"I remember you now, the dorky, _sidekick_ freshman that followed Warren around all over Sky High and worshipped the very ground he walked on." She waited for his reaction, leaving out that she had actually looked him up not so long ago using her senior yearbook. The differences between the geeky boy in his class picture and the man before her now were astounding. He had certainly grown up. It was why she had had so much difficulty placing his face in her memory. He looked nothing like he did then, except maybe for his use of glasses.

But if she were completely honest with herself, the young boy in the picture was kind of cute, in a nerdy sort of way.

Now how did that happen? She inwardly groaned, finding her untimely attraction bothersome.

Ethan, unaware of her inner struggle, sighed and his comforting fingers left her arm, "Yes, I'm that sidekick freshman that made friends with Warren. He actually introduced us when you two were an item. I wasn't expecting you to remember me."

"You could have just reminded me," she chastised, though secretly she had _enjoyed_ his nonchalance. "But that's in the past. It's good to see you again, Ethan, though the circumstances are not so good."

He hummed his agreement and the throaty vibration did wonders to her body. "I agree. I wasn't expecting a nighttime visit, much less from Freeze Girl herself," he said with a subtle smile.

They were staring at each other again; the comfortable silence between them startling her alittle, but it was not unwelcomed. Julia was grateful to the melting man and realized that she felt relief in sharing her night endeavors with someone who not only listened to her, but helped clean her up. The superheroine had so little friends, none really that she could really talk to about her midnight activities as a masked crime-fighter. She never realized just how isolated she was from humanity, keeping to herself, living alone, never opening herself up to anyone that wasn't her immediate family.

She was lonely and now was when she truly felt it, when the handsome doctor had offered her solace and a metaphorical shoulder to lean on, to take her troubles out on. Her heart swelled with such foreign happiness and she knew she owed this man something.

She would honor him as he had honored her.

"I should be leaving. It's late and I'm sure you're exhausted," she said softly, biting her lower lip attentively before speaking again. "I am in your debt, doctor. If there is anything you wish to ask of me, you may ask it. I will do what I can."

"That is not necessary. I only upheld my vow to help a fellow human. You do not owe me anything, Freeze Girl."

"Julia. You keep forgetting, doctor. Must I keep reminding?"

He couldn't help but smile at that. "Julia, then."

"I insist in my debt to you. Please, Ethan."

Watching her standing there inside his apartment, inside his personal lavatory, Ethan wondered why this creature asked such things as to be indebted to him. In all his years of servicing supers, none had ever offered him anything remotely as personal as to be indebted to him. He could literally ask of her anything and she would be obligated to perform.

He was not a man that would take advantage of someone's generosity, much less misplaced generosity. He wondered if this woman was so accustomed to men demanding things of her. He could never imagine her bending to anyone's will. And he would not be that person. Has anyone ever treated her as an equal?

"And _I_ insist that it is unnecessary. You do not owe me anything, Julia."

What is it with this doctor? Why can't he be like any other _normal, sane_ person and just accept her offer? Was it truly so difficult or was he some sort of saint?

"There's got to be _something_ I can help you with? Anything, really. I want to be of some use to you."

In some dark, _repressed_ place within himself he admitted that he could think of various ways she could be of use to him, but he was an honorable person and would never say such things aloud.

Didn't stop his traitorous mind from thinking it though.

_Pull yourself together man! You have more control than this!_ Giving himself a mental shake, the good doctor pondered on her suggestion before rejecting her offer again. She was a powerful force, someone he could count on to get the job done, so-to-speak. Her ice-manipulation had been legendary in Sky High and more so now with her making a name for herself in Maxville. She worked without a partner; he imagined she had no real need of a sidekick when she held enough power and skill to fight crime single-handedly.

And suddenly he was staring right into those brilliant blue-green eyes and really could have kissed her. Of course! Why hadn't it occurred to him before? She was one of the most powerful ice elementals in all of Maxville and it just so happened that the most troubled and powerful of fire elementals needed someone to keep him in check.

And who better to keep Warren Peace on a tight leash then one Julia Godfrey?

But could he really ask such a thing of her?

He had to try.

"What? You look like you've just discovered that Santa Claus is real and he brought your Christmas present earlier than planned."

"Julia, I know exactly how you can assist me." And he proceeded to tell the blonde woman how a world-weary pyro came back to his hometown seeking sanctuary from his uncontrollable power and how he himself was looking for a way to help him.

And when he explained his plan to her, the superheroine had leaned her weight against the sink and crossed her tense arms across her chest defensively.

The room's temperature dropped dramatically.

~/\\~

"Hothead, you need a shot," Magenta stated in her usual dry, blunt manner, giving the pyrokinetic a nod.

How liquor would resolve his problems, Warren did not know. Sure he had drank a few times, mainly when he had been at sea with O Touro and the other sailors, but he wasn't one to overdo it. And with that _horrible_ music still pounding into his head, he knew he was on the path to receiving a migraine headache and alcohol would only aid in his imminent pain.

Add his weakened state with his almost loss of control earlier, he was almost certain he would be sick right there where he sat if he up took such pastimes.

"Man, I never would've believed that Warren Peace was no safer than a wild super! Are you sure you aren't gonna blow up or something?"

Magenta sighed, "And that wonderful piece of clarity was just something you would say, jackass. I wonder what else that smart mouth of yours has to say." The shifter looked ready to throttle the blonde man. Her aura was stifling with dark intent and the two supers wondered how the glowing man couldn't recall enough self-preservation to keep himself alive for more than two minutes.

Maybe he _was _asking for a death wish.

"I didn't mean to offend, Fire-man, and I get why you came back and all and it sucks what's happened to you, but why are you here? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, sleeping it off or something? Not that I didn't want to see you, or anything! I'm actually happy to see my bro again, but aren't you tired?"

Trust Zach and his eloquence to point out the obvious.

"We came because we need a favor, Zach," Will raised his hand before the glowing man could interrupt him, "And I know you're neutral now and can't help one side and not the other, but it's important and you're the only man for the job. Ethan was the one who recommended you and he wouldn't if he didn't think you could. You owe us that much."

The blonde's sky blue eyes widened when the three people in the room looked to him expectantly. Magenta was eyeing him critically, wondering herself if the man even knew what friendship meant anymore. For Warren's benefit, she hoped so. Zach had changed a lot since Sky High. He may still talk the same, act the same, but he had strayed from the side of good and now basked in his 'neutrality' and expected to be left out of any conflict. Like being neutral would protect him from the big bad world.

He seriously pissed her off like no one ever could.

Gulping, he braved to question, "And how can I help you?"

Will grinned crookedly. "Why so scared, Zach? I thought you were Maxville's number one underground informant?"

"I-I mean I am, but-"

"And we are your friends, right?"

"Course, but-"

"Then it shouldn't be a problem. Zach." Will's playfulness fell away then and in its place stood Maxville's strongest superhero. The justice-seeking man spoke gravely, "We need access into _Ground Zero_. Can you get us in?"

In all honesty, Warren wasn't expecting for his best friend to include himself in his plans. He had fully expected meeting head-on with his old man, putting aside his dislike and his own pride, and asking the villain for his help. Knowing that William Stronghold would be there as his what, moral support? It wasn't that he was ungrateful to the super, but he had asked too much of him already.

Reacquainting himself with his father was something he had to do on his own.

"_Ground Zero_? Are you listening to yourself, man? You want to go into a high scaled prison for supervillains and _what_? Half the scum were put in there by you and the other half by your father! You'd be a dead man walking that's for sure."

Warren had _literally _had enough. "Look glowworm, either you know a way in or not. I'm getting in with your help or finding someone else who can."

"No one else _can_, it's not a park you can just stroll into and walk right out of. It's a jail for a reason."

_Got him._ "Then get me in."

~/\\~

The Asian woman breathed in deeply, the warm scent of moonlight filling her meditating mind with peace and guidance.

When Layla had dropped her off a little over two hours ago at her apartment complex, Joi had made herself a cup of tea and had changed into loose fitting clothing. She then exercised a little yoga and- feeling her lithe muscles aching blissfully from properly stretching- had sat lotus style on her mat and began closing her mind off slowly from the world around her. Her shallow breathing deepened and her roving, closed eyes stilled. Her window was open, allowing the chilly autumn air into her room.

But Joi could feel nothing in her meditation.

Her mind still, she gave herself over to the powers around her. It was a humbling sensation, lost within the vastness of the earth and feeling its awe, herself only a small in a larger whole.

It was in the midst of such oneness when Joi had her greatest realizations.

She could see herself now, within her inner eye, dressed in a simple, cotton white dress that fell to her ankles. Her feet were bare beneath the earth, her long raven-black hair free to tangle in the wind as she ran, ran through tall, yellow grass that whispered in old, forlorn voices. Her fingers glided through those somber stalks, never breaking or tiring from her sprint, the beating of her heart and the pounding of the earth one.

She knew she had to reach _somewhere_. Something was calling her to answer, to find it. And so she did not pause or second guess such powerful magic and ran uphill and upon reaching its crest, the young woman finally stopped.

Beyond, she could see the beginnings of a forest, a dark forest. The yellow grass embraced her as it swayed with the wind, her glowing skin a beacon as she remained at the tallest point of this world.

And before the mouth of the forest stood a burning man.

Joi flew downhill, her legs as swift as a deer. The pounding of the earth, the tempo of her beating heart echoing in her ears, in the very air. The warmth of the fire touched her shining skin as she neared closer, closer to the calling man, until she was within his very flame.

She did not pause and touched the fire that consumed and _consumed_. She was burning with her calling man, reaching out to embrace him. She buried herself in him, her arms holding him to her. She could feel his agony and only wished to soothe his pain with her touch.

The red fire soared around them and she only tightened her hold, her face against his throat and her arms around his middle. Unafraid, the young woman raised her black eyes and stared into those that seared her very soul and placed her lips over his, tasting for the first time his essence.

His _power_, so magnificent and yet so wild, succumbed to her and receded and he _breathed_, exhaling into her mouth as he returned her pressure and parted his burning lips to kiss her just as fiercely. His large hands wound around her body, molding her to him, as he released her lips, licking the corner of her mouth and placing openmouthed kisses along her jaw.

Whimpering at the loss of contact, Joi nuzzled into the side of his face, kissing his cheek, the flesh still hot. His breath tickled her ear as he chuckled darkly, his fingers playing with the tips of her hair, as he rested his tired head against her.

The whispering voices of the grass ceased and the dead blades grew green and whole, while the black forest regained its core and illuminated the glade.

He inhaled her scent and kissed her again, sighing into her lips with such adamant relief.

_Thank you_.

Joi opened her eyes quickly and placed a heavy hand to her content and beautifully happy heart.

She was in her room, where she had always been (her body at least) sitting on her yoga mat with the cool from outside chilling her skin. She could still feel the fire, could still feel his hands on her, could taste him on her lips and she was so confused.

Never had she seen such things in her meditations or felt such powerful emotions. It had felt so real and that scared her. She had been so fearless in that world, but here, in this reality, she was trembling. Her body was being subjected to everything her mind had felt, raking over her like crashing waves.

And one certainty kept repeating itself over and over in both her subconscious and within her still pounding heart.

She had loved that man.

~/\\~

Author's Note:

Whoa! Didn't think Ethan had it in him! Poor guy can't relax, can he?

Will Julia go through with helping Warren? And if so, how will she react when she once again sees her ex? Leash indeed, another mongrel comment referring to our dear pyro.

Let's see how Zach can get Warren and Will into _Ground Zero_. The big father-son encounter is only a few chapters away!

Joi certainly had some realizations.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And a big huge thank you to all readers and reviewers for your encouragements! I thrill in your enjoyment!


	18. Ch 18: The Dog and the Dragon

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.18: The Dog and the Dragon

It was nearing sunrise when Warren Peace dragged himself up the stairwell and stood before Joi's apartment door, briefly leaning his head against the solid wood while digging in his pocket for the spare key, having managed to salvage it from his ruined work clothes.

He sighed, knowing he would have to go shopping for more at some point. The thought made him inwardly shutter; great, _shopping_.

Feeling for the keyhole, the exhausted pyro unlocked the door and walked into the dim apartment, silent save for the few mocking birds and sparrows singing and basking in the early dawn outside.

The meeting with Zach and Magenta had taken up most of the night. He hadn't found it unusual that the glowing man was a nocturnal creature by habit what with running an underground nightclub that stayed opened 'til four, five in the morning. He was not, however, and still required eight hours rest in order to function correctly throughout the day.

After baiting the 'neutral' player, Zach had pushed his forefingers together and had regarded him before agreeing to help him get into _Ground Zero_, though he made it no secret that he would _not_ like it.

Apparently one of the jailors owed the blonde a favor and it was high time to collect.

"Give me a few days," Zach had persuaded, a pale brow rising deviously, "And I'll get you in."

"Well at least you're good for something," Magenta had said, trying her hardest to sound full of contempt, but secretly pleased with her boy- just friend. _Not even friend at the moment_, she reminded herself with purpose. The biohazard freak needed to grow some before he could ever consider crawling back into her good graces.

Not that she was considering taking him back if he did or anything.

Magenta had excused herself for the night/morning, stating that unlike _some_ people (i.e. Zachary Braun), she had a day job in a few hours. She ignored the blonde's whining about not getting a proper goodbye, gave Will a friendly shove and Warren a decent punch to the arm; still rough-around-the-edges, Guinea Pig shifting punk.

With the three men alone, Warren had wanted to ask the glowing man why he had resorted to this neutrality, but thought better of it. It's his own damn business. He didn't like people prying into his life; he would extend the same courtesy and take the highlighter's new position as is.

"She hates me!"

Will had appeared slightly uncomfortable at the man's sudden outburst. "She doesn't hate you, per say, she just…doesn't like you very much at the moment?" He winced when the words came out.

_Nice one, Stronghold_, Warren inwardly sighed, shaking his head. "What Captain Subtle over here meant was that she's pissed off because of your choices. Try making the right ones and she might forgive you."

"But I don't know what the right choices are!"

Well that sucks for you then. "Learn them."

"I try, but she just, Arrg! She doesn't even give me a chance!" Zach sounded so pitiful, even to his own ears. "I've lost her for good this time."

The two supers had retired shortly after that, bidding the blonde man their goodnights and good mornings, neither comfortable wallowing alongside the sidekick's miserable ambiance.

Warren had gotten what he wanted, to land on a Go To Jail space. He only had to be patient and wait for Zach's summon, a few days would pass by in the blink of an eye.

Hopefully not too many days. Though in control of his power, for the time being, the pyro didn't want to risk what had almost happened in the kitchens of the _Paper Lantern_ from happening again. The thought of powering up _again_ with the Asian woman nearby brought a sharp pain searing straight through his heart.

He could admit, to himself at least, that the girl was one of his precious few; the people he would willing die protecting, even if that protection included protecting them from himself.

Warren would never willing harm the young woman who had given him his life back.

With these thoughts swimming in the forefront of his mind, Warren walked further into the small apartment, liking the idea of just collapsing onto his makeshift bed, 'borrowed' clothes and all. And he would have done just that if the couch had not been in prior use already.

Joi was sleeping deeply, one arm slung over her hip and the other resting under her chin. Her chest was rising and falling with her temperate breathing and the pyro wondered why she was sleeping out here if she had a perfectly good bed just a few feet away. She wasn't even wearing appropriate sleepwear, but dark grey sweats and a tight fitted tank top.

Had the stupid girl been waiting up for him all night?

Apparently so, his mind supplied, his chest rumbling with his discontent. The woman should know better than that. He sighed aloud then. Who was he kidding? The girl was doing what annoyingly came natural for her, worrying about other people who didn't need nor want it.

He watched her for a moment in her unguarded sleep, drinking in her tranquil features and relishing in her inner serenity. He longed for one brief moment to curl into what she offered openly, sheltering her smaller frame with his, surrounding himself in her brightness, and in turn offering her safeguard from all that wished to tarnish her goodness.

He watched, out of bodily, as he bent towards her and his hand reached out hesitantly towards her face. He paused a few scant inches from touching her, before running the back of his hand across her cheekbone. She remained unaware of him and his caresses, as he marveled at her smooth, fair skin so different from his own darker, rougher complexion. He frowned however at how cold her skin felt and inwardly chastised the girl for not taking a blanket with her to bed. Instinctually, he brought soothing heat to his palm and cupped her cheek. Her body absorbed the warmth instantly, her face turning into his hand and exhaling hot air across his palm, her lips grazing the flesh in unknowledgeable gratitude, as he stood over her in bemusement.

He had just used his powers without losing control.

He was so caught off guard by what had just happened, what he had just done, that he was alarmed when an irate voice broke through his thoughts.

"_I see my niece lied to me,"_ a voice spoke in hardly controlled Cantonese, _"She did have a spare key all this time."_

Warren had not heard that voice in over ten years, but he knew immediately, and with some abandoned dread, to just whom it belonged to. Turning towards the voice, his gaze fell upon an older Asian woman sitting on one of the barstools, a cup of tea raised to her lips as she drank from it with her slanted eyes watching him from over the rim. Those dark eyes narrowed on how he was hovering over her niece and then lowered to his other hand, where a bronze key resided. She sneered visibly then.

"_Tell me, my old busboy, why you dare molest an innocent girl in her sleep with her parental guardian only a few feet away_?" Ming Yue questioned dangerously, the wrinkles marking her age digging further into her skin as she frowned. In all honesty, she wished the man knew her Xiang dialect, so she could properly curse him into oblivion.

That personality was one he hadn't been subjected to in a very long time and he wasn't prepared to handle it. But if he were completely honest with himself, he had missed his old boss. Though a royal pain in the ass to work with, she was a fair and good person at heart; she just enjoyed testing people and pushing their buttons until they popped.

Straightening, Warren shoved the spare key into his pocket and leveled the older woman with a look she remembered well. It was his 'I mean business' look and she inwardly sent him a feral grin, knowing she would enjoy his challenge immensely.

"Lady Ming Yue," he greeted formally, eyeing her carefully.

The woman lowered the china onto the counter and rested her hands in her lap, "_Your politeness will not save you now, Warren Peace_."

"_Do I really need saving?"_ he dared, mimicking her wicked tone and speaking in his remembered Cantonese. _"She looked cold."_

"_That was a terrible excuse. I should cut off your genitalia as custom and make you a eunuch._"

Somehow he didn't doubt that if rubbed the wrong way, the Asian woman would go through with her threats. _"I have no ill will towards your niece, Lady. I apologize then for my indiscretion," _though he was unsure why he had dared touch her in such familiarity in the first place. Truly, the girl only lived to give him grief.

Ming Yue was certainly taking pleasure in his groveling. She huffed at his apology and waved it away. _"I know what men think of when they touch a woman. Make sure to better manage yourself around my niece, busboy. Now,"_ at this her overbearing tone changed swiftly, "_Let me look you over…yes…alittle grooming is in order, I say, but you always enjoyed that scruffy, dirty look, didn't you? And a few more dishes of rice wouldn't hurt either."_

The Lady stood and walked towards him, quickly capturing all his face in her one hand, making his face squish together and his lips pucker out comically. She tilted her head to the side, still looking him over, even from their severe height differences. She nodded to herself at last and released him, his hand flying up to rub at his abused flesh.

"_You will come this afternoon to my home. Tell my niece when she wakes."_

And she left, leaving behind a sorely confused pyro and a wholly undisturbed sleeping girl who was enjoying her new found warmth.

~/\\~

Joi smiled up affectionately at the nervous pyro, giggling behind her hand as he ran his hands through his long hair and only managed to make stray strands stick up at odd angles. Taking his hands and lowering them, the young woman shuffled him over to the nearest couch and proceeded to stand behind him, her hands automatically running through his disheveled hair and working out the knots in a rhythmic and precise manner.

A warm tingle spread down Joi's spine at feeling the cool strands running through her hands. The tips were split and needed a good trim, but his hair was divine, silky to the touch and flowing through her working fingers like water. He was relaxing into the couch, closing his eyes as she continued to groom him and listened sleepily to her soft humming.

There was so much she wanted to ask him, to tell him. Hopefully at her uncle and aunt's she could find time to talk to him. She wanted to be completely honest with him, especially now that everyone else knew how she reacted to him and his power.

He deserved to be aware of her own 'talents' as well.

Determined, the young woman pulled her fingers out of his hair when it was sufficiently untangled, though she had continued running her fingers through his dark locks even after all the tangles had been tamed. Opening her small bag, she quickly found a hair tie and plaited the pyro's hair up and away from his face as he was prone to do when working.

When done, Joi settled her hands on his shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly. "Much better, I imagine, ready to go?" When he made no move to stand, Joi tsked. "My aunt was just teasing you earlier, Warren, relax. Besides, I know you will like meeting my uncle and this way you can thank him for the clothes he gave you."

A few hours earlier, Joi had finally woken from her sleep and was surprised to see the man she had been waiting up for dozing off on the smaller loveseat, his head lolling back and seeming too tired to find the position uncomfortable. A little worried, but nothing pressing, she had stood and stretched languidly, deciding to make them breakfast. She was starving herself and imagined that he must be too.

He awoke to the smell of cooking.

Grumpy as he was when just waking, he said nothing as he sat on the same stool Ming Yue had sat on earlier and accepted the food Joi happily placed before him, chipper as usual.

They ate in peaceful silence. When finished, Warren had wasted no time in letting his host know that her aunt had paid her a visit and had requested- more like demanded- that they head over to her place this afternoon for lunch. He also decided to tell her about the spare key comment.

"I'm a goner for sure. She'll chew me right up and spit me out," Joi had groaned, hiding her flushed cheeks behind her hands. "I didn't think she would ever find out about the spare key."

Warren's brows had risen to that, "So you did lie to her, then. And here I thought you were immune to making mistakes."

"I'm only human, we all make mistakes. It was only a little white lie, the woman was driving me crazy and I had to come up with something," she had sighed tiredly. "Doesn't really matter much now, she has already made herself her own spare key and makes a point in coming over whenever she likes."

He could understand perfectly why it was necessary at times to lie to the Dragon Lady. He found no fault in her for doing so.

Rinsing out the dishes, Joi went about cleaning up her apartment, something she usually did on Saturdays since she didn't usually work. She also called the _Paper Lantern_ and spoke with Shui to see how everything was holding up. The restaurant closed earlier on weekends, so only one shift was needed. Her shift manager regaled her with Michelle's usual antics, making her chuckle a few times into the receiver and she thanked him before hanging up.

The pyro, bored out of his mind and used to cleaning, had changed into his sweats and helped with dusting, his hands wiping at all available surfaces with steadfast determination. Joi was brooming and mopping the tiled floors and had the laundry cleaning as well. With the extra help, they both finished relatively within three hours, every area of the apartment shining and smelling of disinfectant.

Changing the water of her little bamboo plant and feeding it its vitamins, Joi talked to it happily and began lighting candles to drive out the sterile smell of cleaning products. They each took their individual showers and dressed. Warren in the only acceptable clothes he had, Will's borrowed garments and the washed coat he had worn for the better part of four years. Joi decided to dress up alittle and decided on a floral printed skirt, a simple knitted top that reached her elbows, and flat, beaded sandals. She took a sweater and her small purse, her freshly washed hair cascading down her back with two clips holding it away from her face.

Exiting the bathroom presented her with the struggling visage of one Warren Peace and his rebellious hair and that's when she had taken pity on him, calming his nerves and fixing his troublesome hair for him.

Clean and ready to go, the young woman blew out the candles and together they walked out of her apartment and made their way along the sidewalk, taking in the afternoon sunlight and breezy temperature.

Warren was finding that with the perfect weather and Joi's presence, he was thinking less and less of his worries and just _being_. He wasn't even nervous anymore of meeting again with Lady Ming Yue and seeing for the first time Joi's sickly uncle.

Which reminds him, "Shouldn't we take something with us?"

The Asian girl regarded him in amusement, her dark eyes closing as she smiled brightly up at him. "A peace offering for safe passage? No need, I think we'll survive."

He grunted and shook his head, "I meant more like a dessert or something. It's good custom when invited over to someone's house to take a gift."

She found his gracious suggestion rather endearing and decided to humor him. "My aunt is not expecting payment for her invitation, but my uncle has a rather defined sweet tooth. He would greatly appreciate someone bringing him liquor truffles." She cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered conspiratorially, "He would love you for it. My aunt has him on a whole food diet, meaning no sugar and definitely no chocolate."

Joi promptly stopped on the way at a convenience store and at his urging, though she would have paid for it gladly, allowed him to put in half of the bill. And with the gold and red wrapped parcel under his arm, the two continued on their way and about fifteen minutes later, were walking along the neighborhood that led to her family's home.

Walking up the beautiful front lawn, Warren was in awe at the number of flowers and their complimenting colors. Joi explained that her aunt's greatest hobby was gardening and began pointing out and naming the flowers he had been looking over appreciatively.

A stone bird bath surrounded by wildflowers sat under a growing pear tree, by far nothing like he had ever seen before. The tree had numerous windchimes, all of oriental origin by the looks of them, dangling from its boughs. A painted hummingbird, a posing Chinese dragon with a sphere under its claw and a staggering horned ram the size of his torso led up the walkway and again Joi explained that the dragon represented her aunt (no surprise there) and the ram her uncle. It signified their zodiac guardians and the hummingbird was a personal touch, her uncle had always referred to her as his little hummingbird.

"My uncle is very much the astrologer. He's bound to speak to you of it at some point today, so don't be surprised when he does," Joi warned good-naturedly, ringing the outside doorbell.

In no time at all, the slip of a woman and the hulking frame of her companion were dragged impatiently inside by the strangely happy Lady Ming Yue.

"Good, you both here," Ming Yue smiled sharply, deciding to greet her niece and her old busboy in her broken English. "I bring tea."

And the two were quickly left alone together in the quiet foyer, staring at each other in astonishment. They began laughing shortly after and once their humor dwindled, Joi took the pyro's coat and her own sweater and purse, placing them on the coat hanger by the door and, taking his arm, began leading him to where she knew her lovable uncle would be residing.

True to his nature, Joao Angel was outside, basking in the sunlight and fresh, cool air. His pale eyes were closed with his head titled up as if he were trying to absorb the sun for himself, but at hearing the sliding of the screen door and knowing that aura from anywhere, he opened his eyes and smiled when his spirited little hummingbird came to his side and embraced him. He returned her hug with his one free arm, the other holding the cane that allowed him to walk for short periods of time.

"_I must admit, my old heart was very content in hearing that you would visit today,"_ his strange eyes locked with those of the tall man standing alittle ways away from him, "_And that you would be bringing a consort."_

At hearing him referring to Warren, Joi beckoned the pyro closer. "Uncle, this is my good friend and fellow worker, Warren Peace." She turned to Warren then, "Warren, this is my uncle, Joao Angel Di Paolos. Don't let his refusal to speak English deter you, he understands it perfectly. He's just too much of a stubborn old goat to actually converse in it."

Warren was startled by the man's impromptu and robust laughter. For being such a frail looking thing, he sure had a powerful laugh and a surging presence. The man was leaning heavily on his wooden cane, his legs long, but thin and weakening under the constant strain of keeping himself upright. His neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair moved along with his laughter and again those eyes narrowed on him when he regained his composure.

He had such unnerving blue eyes.

Of the handful of people Warren knew with blue eyes, none had eyes like him. Layla's were genteel and dark, like finely cut sapphire. Zach's were lighter and more jovial, truly resembling a morning sky, but this man's were pale and otherworldly. His iris almost blended in perfectly with the white's of his eye.

"_Caught out of the bag, I am then. No matter, why not assist your aunt prepare the table. I wish to know this Warren Peace,"_ Joao Angel encouraged his niece, keeping the young man's dark gaze locked on his own.

"Of course, Uncle, I'll call when lunch is ready." And the Asian woman walked back inside, not at all perturbed that her uncle wished to speak alone with the pyro.

Warren, alone now with the slightly unnerving, non-Asian man, was slightly curious as to how an Anglo Saxon came to marry Ming Yue, much less one that spoke Cantonese so fluently; his own rusty at best.

"_Tell me, young man, in what year were you born?" _

Wondering why Joi's uncle would ask such a question, Warren was caught off guard- again- by the sickly man. Did it really matter what year he had been born in?

This man was very strange.

"Uh, in 1988, in April," he added ruefully.

Joao Angel was silent for a moment, his lips twitching in clear amusement. His pale eyes laughed openly at the pyro and he wondered just what was so damn funny.

"_Ah, a dragon then, so very interesting. Begs to question Fate's incredible sense of humor,"_ he chuckled openly, regarding his niece's surly companion.

_No doubt a dragon_, he mused, _just like my sweet Asian plum. _

Now Warren was just confused. Fate's sense of humor? "Not to be rude, but why is my birth year so very interesting?"

"_Not at all rude, young man. I doubt you can be, truly, but I will answer you now. You know of Chinese traditions, am I correct? Specifically Chinese New Year?"_ At the pyro's nod, he continued speaking in his slow, drawled Cantonese, _"Yes, I thought you were aware. The animals of the zodiac are represented in the year a human is born; man becoming a sort of carrier to the beasts born to them and earning their characteristics. You were born to the Dragon guardian." _

Not something he hadn't already known. "Having worked in a Chinese restaurant for all of my high school years, I kind of already knew my zodiac animal."

"_Oh, I was not implying that you did not know your own animal_," at this he paused and smiled serenely_, "Simply that it is rather clever that my niece was born in 1994, to the year of the Dog, and quite frankly, the Dog and the Dragon have no love lost between them. They cannot stand the mere sight of each other and it is warned that the two should never mingle or be an item."_

And it is so blaringly obvious that nothing but love and devotion reigned between the two young people residing in his home today.

Fate was truly a master strategist.

Now for them to realize what he himself had.

"_Come, lunch is ready. Help a sick man to his wheelchair,"_ Joao Angel requested, still positively glowing in knowing that his little hummingbird was loved greatly by this honorable, if not slightly guarded, young man.

Warren, seemingly confused, did as he was asked and allowed the thin man to slink his arm over his shoulder and walked him over to his wheelchair. "But Joi hasn't called for lunch yet."

"_Ah, but that does not mean it is not ready. You will see."_

And surprisingly, it was. Goes to show, the pyro would never openly doubt the man's words again.

And Joi was right. He did like the strange, unnerving man.

"_And what is that package you carry under your arm, proud dragonfly?"_

Taken aback by the friendly nickname, though he should have seen it coming, what with him calling his niece little hummingbird and all, Warren handed him the chocolates and watched as the European man elegantly opened the box, took a liquor truffle to his lips, and grinned widely up at the pyro, those pale eyes happily satisfied.

"_Welcome, indeed."_

~/\\~

Author's Note:

Sweetness in all its wonder (sigh). The two still see each other as good friends, but it's starting to grow into something else, something more. I know the chapter had very little action, but you'll have plenty of that very soon, so enjoy the little peaceful moments while they last!

Oh Zach, women will never stop testing you or give you a chance unless you earn it!

A little cleaning and visit with the family. It's just so funny seeing big bad Warren all nervous over a simple luncheon.

Still regarding the stories timeline of 2016, Ming Yue was born in 1964 to the year of the Dragon and Joao Angel in 1955, the year of the Ram or Sheep. Joao Angel does not speak English and that is why he spoke to Warren in Cantonese.

I was between firefly and dragonfly for Warren's new nickname from Joao Angel and decided on dragonfly, for now.

A little twist and humor from me, the authoress:

1) Warren was born to the year of the Dragon, like Ming Yue, and this was calculated based on the timeline, since Warren, in this story, was a junior when his friend's were freshman in Sky High making him born in 1988.

2) He was born in April, the month of Aries, the Ram (like Joao Angel).

3) Joi was born in the year of the Dog (also calculated) and Warren has lately been referred to as a mongrel.

See the connections.

Also, Warren refers to Joao Angel as an Anglo Saxon not because he is Germanic (because he's not), but because of his light features and European bone structure.


	19. Ch 19: A Soul's Calling

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.19: A Soul's Calling

"Mayor, you need to see this," his personal secretary said upon marching into his office, the television on in a matter of seconds.

The screen took a moment to assemble the pixels before clearing and regaining color. On center stage, his young, blindingly ambitious opponent was championing the people of Maxville openly, while attacking his current reign in power most convincingly, he had to admit.

Bob McKinney's handsome face was contoured in outrage, hands making offensive gestures concerning the ancient, fraudulent system that had been Maxville's predecessor for years. He demanded to know if anyone in the crowd truly felt safe under Mayor Henderson's seat in power and an uproar went against him, in favor of the running candidate that promised them security that the likes of Maxville had never seen before, using the people's fear to further his campaign and his popularity.

"-While your Mayor resides in safety amongst his bodyguards, you, the people, the very foundation of this city, are in the open for attack. And though the noble superheroes do try their best to protect this town from deranged supervillains and common criminals, Henderson has placed too much of his trust in them and not enough trust in his people! Are we not allowed to defend ourselves? Must we always be the victims to such abominations? I say no! We _chose_ to be the victims, to allow our own fears and doubts to empower this corrupt government! But I, Bob McKinney, say you no longer need to. You, all of us, can be the heroes of Maxville! I stand before you now not as a running candidate, but as a citizen of Maxville and a man ready to bring the change needed to protect this city from all who oppose us!"

Mayor Henderson had heard enough, "Charles, turn that blasted thing off."

"Yes, right away," and his secretary proceeded to cut off Bob McKinney's crowd delivering speech. The man eyed his employer, taking in the older man's sagging shoulder and dejected air. "Mayor?"

"He's right, Charles. He's right, but damn it to use the people's own fears to further his goals? I maybe an old man, but I know manipulation when I smell it. Unfortunately, nothing can be done to ease this. With what has been going on lately, it's as if the world has gone insane and my banquet is being held not two weeks away."

"If anyone can find a way, you can, Mayor. McKinney knows not of what he speaks. You have been a great leader to Maxville and will continue to be so. The people will never doubt you."

Henderson sighed tiredly, taking a seat and resting his entwined hands over his protruding belly. He was a short, rounded man with a thick mustache and thinning hairline. He had an openly friendly personality and a natural grace for leadership, his concerns for his city keeping him in office for the past two terms now. But he was also nearing his sixty-seventh year and retirement looked wonderfully promising, especially if the people truly desired one Bob McKinney to lead them into a new era, one he himself did not believe could ever come to pass.

No government was perfect and to demand such perfection usually required sacrifices; namely, the freedom of its people and the total rule of a tyrant.

Is this what McKinney wished upon Maxville?

If so, then Mayor Isaac G. Henderson would never allow such an empire to come into existence.

No matter how good the younger man's intentions were.

~/\\~

"That's my mother and my aunt when she was sixteen. It's one of the last photographs they took together before she left China," Joi commented, a watery smile grazing her serene face, as she continued to stare at the sepia colored picture of the embracing teenagers. "My aunt told me of how my mother wept at her elopement, as if she were losing a half of herself. They were very close."

Warren watched silently as the Asian woman moved on and touched the picture frame that held a married couple and he knew instantly that it was a picture of Joi's dead parents. He vaguely knew how they died, having drowned at sea while working with whales, but she rarely brought them up, as if their memories pained her.

"I haven't seen a photo of them in your apartment," he decided to inquire, wondering why she would choose not to.

Joi's almond-shaped eyes rose to regard him curiously, "You think I don't want to be reminded of them, do you?" At his silence, she knew that was exactly what he had assumed. "Actually, when I left Macau, I was only six and didn't have a single keepsake of theirs to bring with me. I have lived here practically the majority of my life and have always been surrounded in the memories of my parents. I only moved away two years ago and I realized then that I didn't need a photograph to remind me of them."

_Because they are alive in spirit and that's all that matters._

The brooding man returned to looking at the framed photographs before him, his mind lost in thought. Joi stared up at him earnestly, wondering if he had been bothered with her response and she found herself frowning in question. Knowing the man as she did, when like this, he preferred his solitude.

All throughout lunch she had been wondering on how to catch him alone and had come up with asking him to join her outside in private. When everyone around the table had ate their fill and began standing, she was about to make her suggestion, when her aunt practically ordered her old busboy to help her in the kitchen with the dishes and any rebelliousness on his part had been detained by the slanted glare she had sent his way that left him complying to her wishes immediately. Just like old times.

Sighing, Joi had excused herself from her uncle's presence and had headed outside alone, sitting by the Koi pond and had allowed her fingers to trail lazily through the murky water where the carps resided. The white, black and orange fishes tickled her fingers as their scales grazed over her wandering digits, more than likely searching for food. She had sat there for an immeasurable amount of time, staring blindly into that dark water, breathing in the wonderful fragrances all around her and remembering her vivid vision from the night before.

She just couldn't get the image of that burning man out of her head.

"_I see you are troubled, daughter of my heart,"_ a soothing voice broke into her thoughts, "_Perhaps, you will speak of these things with me_?"

Joao Angel Di Paolos had sat patiently before her on his wheelchair, his thin hands resting on his clothed lap as he regarded the young woman before him softly. He knew her so very well; he could practically feel the insecurity and indecision upsetting her blinding aura.

Joi had looked to her uncle for a moment before tilting her head back, taking in the skies inspiring explosion of colors as it neared sunset. She took in every cloud, every ray that escaped through to highlight the firmament, and every star that twinkled into wakefulness, readying to become part of the night's indigo canvas.

"I was meditating last night when I was suddenly in a dying world with yellow grass that cried in anguish and a black forest entrapping everything within it. And I saw someone, a man on fire, beckoning me to reach him," Joi had turned her dark eyes to rest on her uncle then, "And I ran to him. I took him into my arms a-and I kissed him. The fire stopped and the grass grew green. The forest became alive again and h-he t-thanked me. I came back after that." Her voice had been heavy with emotion; her words breaking as she talked about the man her heart swore it loved.

Joao Angel had listened to every word with the mind of a man not prejudiced by science. His enlightened thinking could only explain this phenomenon as what it was.

"_A Soul's Calling."_

The Portuguese man had begun to methodically break down every aspect of her vision. "_I have no doubt, my hummingbird, that this burning man was a soul reaching out to you. The world you were in was __his __world. The grass around you represented his present: dying and in agony. The forest…I believe the forest was his future. It is dark, unknown, and cages him from the rest of humanity," _he paused to lick his thin lips, a finger smoothing over the wool blanket over his lap thoughtfully, "_As for the man himself, the fire I am unsure of. It could very well embody his soul, caged within its own personal hell, burning him from the inside out._

"_However, I __am__ certain of one thing. What did your soul sense when embraced by this man?"_ He had asked his niece carefully, eyeing her critically with his unnerving, pale eyes.

Joi's mind had been running rampant as her uncle spoke of her vision, but ceased the moment he had asked his question. What did her own soul feel when surrounded by that of the burning man's?

"I felt like I was needed, desperately so, and tormented by his suffering, seeking for the source and when I found him, standing there in that fire, I knew despair. When I held him close to me, no, when I kissed him and he _returned_ to me, I felt such glorious happiness that did not leave me when I awakened from my meditation. I-I felt..."

"_You love him."_ She could only nod in response. "_It is rare, but not unheard of, for a soul to search for its other half. It seeks fulfillment, completion, and the oneness that only comes from reuniting with its complimenting partner_.

"_In other words_," his voice grew impossibly tender, "_Your soul mate, child."_

That conversation had been one of the most shocking eye-openers she had ever had with her uncle, or with any other human being, for that matter. Just the mere thought that her soul, while meditating, had encountered its perfect partner and had promptly decided to well do as it pleased, left her wondering just how little control she had over this entire situation.

Of all the things a soul mate? She, who was perfectly content with living out the remainder of her relatively normal life, now had a distressed soul seeking her out relentlessly for completion.

_This is just so weird_, she couldn't help but think, as she escaped her thoughts and found herself once more before the brooding pyro, his dark eyes still permanently fixed on the framed pictures before him on the mantle and his full lips turned down in a hard frown.

Mostly because she was starting to get a headache from all her thinking and from the revealing conversation with her uncle earlier and, secretly, because she didn't like him frowning, the young woman lowered her head onto his shoulder, promptly startling him from his musings.

Warren was brought out of his thoughts by the sudden action. He turned his head to the side to stare down at the crown of raven-black hair now perched on his shoulder, her face buried into the fabric of his 'borrowed' shirt and her cool fingers trailing over the scarred skin of his forearm almost absentmindedly, causing his flesh to burn everywhere her innocent touch trailed.

Lightly, he rested his own head over hers so as not to alert her of his intentions and breathed in deeply the delicious scent of her freshly washed hair. His worrying thoughts ceased and his mind became wonderfully blank, at peace with the world around him and her steadying presence in it.

How easily she could render him defenseless and yet she would never take advantage of his vulnerability. For ten years, and possibly longer than that, never had he allowed himself to drop his guard around anyone, especially if he intended to survive this world, its cruelty, and his uncontrollable power, but all of the self-survival tactics he had taught himself over the years went straight to hell when confronted with the Asian girl resting on his arm contently, as if he were a perfectly comfortable throw-pillow and not a conflicted, temperamental fire user.

"I think it's time you met Marie."

Somehow Joi could tell that the pyro's brow was raised in question because she began to elaborate on how her best friend from college and Ethan's younger sister was a hairdresser and he was in need of a good one. Never once did she lift her head from his shoulder or stopped trailing her pale fingers over his scarred flesh.

The two looked so natural together that even Ming Yue had a hard time breaking them apart, instead measuring her clearly amused husband with a mock glare and walking back into the kitchen.

Her husband, however, watched them secretly and smiled enigmatically before joining his wife in the kitchen.

~/\\~

A few days turned out to be a week.

By then, Warren had gone shopping- the word still left him twitching as if stung by a bee- and had purchased more appropriate work clothes and some jeans and shirts for casual days. He had returned Will's 'borrowed' clothes, washed and perfectly ironed, something that his super friend couldn't help tease him about endlessly and concurred that the pyro obviously had obsessive compulsive disorder.

Work had gone smoothly with no more 'episodes' to show for, something he was eternally grateful for. His fellow co-workers, especially the jovial head chef Xing-Xing, treated him as if he had always been there and hadn't been absent for ten years, going as far as inviting the pyro out for drinks and male-bonding outings that he would have politely sidestepped if not for the insufferable Asian girl who practically forced him to attend.

Joi had indeed presented him to her best friend, the sensually curvy and vivaciously opinionated Marjorie Hawk- though Marie would do- and he had in fact recognized her as Ethan's younger, slightly overweight sister. The woman had no power of her own; Ethan having once discussed their half-blood status to all of them when they were younger. Marie was the daughter of his blood-related father and his Southern stepmother, his own mother having abandoned him when he was still an infant.

"Well it certainly has been awhile, hon, and you brought a man too! How thoughtful," Marie's husky voice had been full of humor as she regarded the two and looked the pyro over appreciatively. "My sugar, you certainly turned out _fine_."

Unsure on how to reply and frankly a little self-conscious with so many women staring at him, the fire user inwardly groaned. Why had the blasted girl brought him into a _women_'s hair salon? And why was she laughing? At him?

Gah, women!

"Warren here is in need of a trim, Marie. Think you're up to the challenge?" Joi had been openly conspiring with her friend, having a swell ol' time messing with her favorite surly companion.

In no time, Marie had the pyro sitting and had her dark fingers critically inspecting his hair, noises of disapproval and _horror _leaving her painted gold lips. "Sugar, I don't know what you have been up to, but your _do_ just won't cut it anymore. Let's get this mess washed and I can give you a true Marie-style haircut."

Between the two women, Warren's hair had been washed, scrubbed, rinsed, brushed, practically inspected for fleas, and groomed. His hair was still dark, with its naturally auburn highlights, and longer than was considered modern. However, the dead ends were cut away and the _mess, _as the African-American woman was prone to say, had been trimmed down and styled. He felt like a fucking French poodle getting ready for breeding.

"Do come again, sugar," Marie had grinned at him cattishly and Warren had prayed never to have to step foot into that salon ever again.

And of course the girl who lived to cause him grief was enjoying herself immensely, all at his expense too.

She had merely grinned up at him with those dark eyes closed in contentment, making her sweet face appear more childish in that moment, "You look positively _fine_," she had rolled the word over her tongue just as her friend had done.

He glared at her openly, but stayed silent, waiting out his payback. And soon enough they had returned to her apartment and with a startled cry, the tall pyro had the struggling girl over his shoulder and had proceeded to march her straight through the small living room, came crashing into her bedroom and dumped her right into her orderly bed. She was crying out something, but he wasn't really paying attention, crawling next to her on the queen-size bed.

Taking the hem of her shirt and raising it just slightly enough so that he could see the pale, taut skin of her stomach, Warren Peace proceeded to lower his lips onto that smooth and radiant skin and loudly blew a raspberry, while tickling her sides mercilessly.

"Warren! Warren, stop! Ha! Ha!" Joi had been laughing and giggling hysterically, squirming around to get his lips away from her sensitive stomach. He was just plain evil! He continued to tickle her and made the most absurd of noises on her belly, chuckling darkly in that rich voice of his.

And just when she thought she couldn't take much more, he stopped, but continued to laugh in true mirth at her. Joi, though slightly upset that he had used her weakness against her, was pleased that he had finally relaxed and laughed again.

She held such affection for the gruff man that his little humiliation of her could easily be overlooked as something necessary. Still laughing and smiling softly at him, the girl watched as he stretched his long body over her, properly caging her smaller form under his. He kept his weight off her, resting his arm on the bed, but the sudden looming presence of him over her, all around her, made her aware of something inexplicable.

She _didn't_ want him to control himself around her.

Mulling this tad bit of self-awareness over in her mind, the Asian girl was completely caught off guard when she felt warm skin nuzzling into her hair.

Warren was lost. He had been satisfied in his torture of one Joi Li Feng, stopping when he had been completely content in her misery. The girl's skin felt wonderful against his lips and he had allowed them to linger longer than necessary before pulling back and crawling over her. Though he wasn't crushing her frame to his, the slight curves of her body were outlined against his frame.

The feminine scent surrounding him and the light ambiance of his being was drugging his mind in such powerful bliss. He could even feel her heartbeat, like a bird's, errantly drumming against her chest. He felt his hand moving to touch the exposed skin of her side and how his face lowered, allowing him to nuzzle his face against her dark hair.

Ever since that night when he had lost control, he had wondered over his feelings for her. When she had removed that stocking so innocently and yet had him reacting so _violently_, he couldn't help but think that she might mean more to him than he could have ever have allowed.

She had already buried and claimed a place for herself within his heart.

Joi did nothing but breathe deeply, eyes closed, as he moved his face from her hair, allowing his nose to trail her high cheekbone slowly, making her tremble under him.

When he had reached her small, pert nose, he had rubbed his nose against hers, mimicking her Eskimo Kiss.

Opening her fogged eyes, Joi stared up at him and knew, somehow, that the meaning behind his kiss was so much more than any of the kisses she had given him in her adolescence. And with her brazen blood singing in her ears, something her aunt would have been immensely proud of, the young Asian girl took initiative. Raising her body so that it could meld with his, she had turned her head just slightly enough so that her peach-colored lips could feather against his.

Joi pulled back slowly, her eyes half-lidded as she looked into the pyro's unreadable features, having stilled and become immobile the moment her lips had grazed his. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she had raised her hand to his full lips and lightly caressed them with her fingertips shyly; exploring the skin she had just kissed so intimately.

His eyes darkening, Warren had brushed her hand away and replaced their phantom touch with her beckoning mouth, swallowing her immediate and surprised gasp as he kissed her in return.

The sensations were instantaneous.

Capturing her lips fully, the pyro _groaned_ into her mouth, knowing of nothing as soft, as refreshing, nor as addicting as kissing those lips. He felt her responding to him, her mouth just as eager, just as demanding as his. The hand at her hip slid to arc her body, while her hands gripped his shoulders and drew him even closer.

They were complete in that perfect moment.

Joi had never known, had never dreamed, that the bad-tempered boy she had made friends with all those years ago could kiss like this. Her lips were burning with his caresses, adoring his impossible nearness and heat. He felt wonderful against her. The slow movement of his mouth over hers was timid, inexperienced, yet so heartwarming that she only wanted to get closer. He was such a constant in her life now, another loved one she had pledged to help, that the growing attraction she had been experiencing since before she could even remember had been completely overlooked.

She had never expected this to feel so very _right_.

It was in that moment that the telephone began to ring shrilly, cutting straight through their hazed and pleasure-filled brains.

Warren had been the first to act. He stood quickly, his disheveled clothes and kiss-swollen lips making very real what the two friends had just been up to. He wanted to ram his head right into a wall and call himself a long stream of vulgar and foul things. How could he do this to her? How could he take advantage of her hospitality? Damn him!

He fled the room and ran right into the kitchen, leaving behind a very confused and blushing Asian girl.

The pyro answered the phone on the last ring, his voice sounding as angry and brash as any ogre's. The voice on the other line was silent a moment before speaking up, "Bro, you seriously need to chill."

"What do you want, _glowworm_?" The pyro's voice didn't lose its irritation, though he was ashamed in taking out his frustrations on the glowing man.

"You know when you growl like that it makes me remember the good ol' days-"

"Zachary," the dunce was certainly trying his patience, "What. Do. You. Want?"

"Well, I was going to call you, only I remembered that I didn't have a number to reach you at, so I called Will and he gave me this number and told me if a girl picked up to ask for you and I was _really_ interested in hearing that you were living with a girl, so I asked Will who this girl was and Will told me she was Lady Ming Yue's niece, Joi, and I was like, 'Really? Warren is living with the new owner of the _Paper Lantern_,' that hot, Asian-"

"Zach."

"-babe that always give me extra fried rice. I give you props, Hothead. She's-"

"Zach." At this point the pyro was _really _considering ramming his head straight into the kitchen wall.

"-one hell of a looker, if you ask me. So, anyways…what was I saying again? Oh yeah, I got this number from Will. Just wanted to let you know I contacted Larry to collect my debt and with a little persuasion from Zach Attack here, he agreed to get us in tomorrow. Hello, Warren, you there bro?"

Instead of a few days it had taken a week for Warren Peace to receive news of his imminent arrival into the notorious supervillain facility known only as _Ground Zero_. Within that week, he had been taken in like a stray by his fellow cooks, given a makeover by a sensational black woman, and had just shared a mind-blowing and passionate kiss with his current employer and landlord.

Right about now, a wall just wasn't going to cut it.

"When and where do we meet?"

~/\\~

Author's Note:

Finally! Sheesh, they sure took their sweet time. Nineteen chapter's worth and I hope the kiss was natural and not forced.

Zach talks too much, but he's hilarious when he rants.

Before writing this chapter, I was really considering on not explaining Joi's vision until further into the story, but then I decided to change that. I liked the idea of Joi opening up to her uncle about this and her uncle providing the answers to help her understand.

That way she can focus on other things to come.

And with this explained, do you see the similarities with Warren's dream. Could he then have been connecting with Joi's soul? Surrounded by the open sky and rolling lavender stalks? Hmm…food for thought.

To put your mind at ease, Joi does **not **know who the burning man is. She will though, when the time is right. So be patient! It will be spectacular and well worth the wait!

I've noticed that lately I start writing from the middle and end up recounting everything like a memory and then jumping back into the present. Hehe…I guess I can't help myself. Hopefully it doesn't bother or confuse anyone and if it does, just let me know!

Will Joi and Warren's relationship change now that they kissed? For now, don't count on it. It's a slow process, especially since it regards out stubborn pyro. Joi's going to have to knock some sense into him sooner or later. Plus, the kiss was sudden for both of them.

Next chapter will be quite the thrill! Hope you're ready. I know I am!

As always, thanks to everyone who reads and reviews! I adore you all and I hope the story is to your enjoyment!


	20. Ch 20: Down the Rabbit Hole

Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.

~/\\~

To Touch Fire

Ch.20: Down the Rabbit Hole

"What exactly are we waiting for, Stronghold?"

Zach yawned loudly, rubbing at his tearing eyes, "Yeah, man, why did we have to get up so early?"

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon, glowworm."

"Like I said, _too_ early," the man clad in bright colors yawned once more. "What are we waiting for again, Will?"

"Just be patient, guys. He said he'd be here a quarter after one, we still have fifteen minutes. He's never late," Will Stronghold looked down at his practical stainless steel watch before regarding his friends.

Zachary Braun was swaying where he stood, his eyes closed in exhaustion. He looked ready to collapse onto the pyro who stood beside him, though at seeing Warren's fierce expression, he doubted the man would allow it.

Warren, on the other hand, was very much awake and looked ready to chop off anyone's head that came asking for it. He was definitely irritated, by what, Will did not know. Perhaps he was just nervous and was trying to hide it behind a scowl?

Nope, that didn't sound right.

Not that he didn't love his best friend and all, the man was like a brother to him, but he had always been introverted and kind of a loner. He preferred to spend his time reading his books or working, than to be around other people. It was just how he was. And the super didn't mind it; he just worried about the pyro. How was the man ever going to merge with society, if he just locked himself away all the time?

Sometimes, Will feared that his isolation from humanity fueled his abandoned power.

The superhero was just about to ask what was eating his friend, when the unmistakable roar of a large engine came rolling down the street. Their current location and the purr of that engine brought a sudden sense of déjà vu to the hero. Will remembered vividly the first time he had ever stood at that corner, waiting for a flying yellow bus. He had dreaded it at the time, not having come into his powers yet and nervous about letting his family down, especially his father.

However, this time around he was waiting for that yellow bus for another reason entirely.

A crooked grin spread across his features when the school bus immediately stopped before them. The metal doors opened instantly and from the driver's seat sat an older Ron Wilson, bus driver extraordinaire.

Standing from his seat, Ron Wilson hopped off the bus with a practiced ease and took the smiling super into his arms, "Will Stronghold! But it has been years, since last you've called upon my services!" The man was ecstatic at being once again at a Stronghold's disposal. He released the younger man and took him by the shoulders, "I heard you're beau's pregnant again, congratulations! Hope it's a boy to carry on the proud Stronghold name, though any child of yours will be superb!"

The man born to two superhero parents, who didn't have powers of his own, had aged since last they saw him. His face had creased into hard frowns along his eyes and mouth and he had gained some weight around his middle. He still wore his standard driver's uniform composed of a white, button-down shirt, khaki slacks, and an orange cap that hid his short, graying hair.

Will smiled easily and clapped the man's elbow, since he still held his shoulders, "Thanks, Ron. Layla's due any moment now and of course you're welcome to visit when the baby's born. How does your mother like her new house, by the way?"

Ron's eyes brightened, "She loves it! Hold's little parties with her bowling gals, all dressed in their matching Pink Ladies jackets too. She's even taken up baking, though she's right terrible at it, bless her soul, though I do try to bear it when she tries to stuff me with her cranberry lemon pies. Apparently, the large kitchen inspired her to take a whack at it. Sometimes I wish it hadn't though and she had gotten into knitting or cat collecting instead." He squeezed Will's shoulder, "You're a right good real estate agent, Stronghold. Must make the Commander and Jetstream proud."

Will brushed the compliment aside (having years of experience dealing with the bus driver's hero-worship) and stepped back so that Ron would take in the other two by his side. He didn't disappoint. "While I'll be, it's the two heroes! You guys are right famous up in Sky High as the 'Abolishers of the Old Ways' and the 'Bringers of the Hero/Side-Kick Revolution!' But where is your other companion, the little purple girl? Haven't seen her over the years. No matter, no matter! It feels good to be amongst you three again! Whenever I'm called something big's always about to happen. So what is it this time? Villain's trying to take over the world again? Mutant zombie invasion? The Apocalypse?"

"Mutant zombie invasion?" Zach murmured under his breath in disbelief, having snapped out of his half-dazed state when the old bus driver began talking excitedly and rather loudly too. The reference to Magenta stung him a bit, knowing that the 'purple girl' was no longer part of their little group. But neither was he really. He was only there as an exception, going against his neutrality to help his friends.

"You didn't tell him?" Warren asked hollowly, turning his dark eyes to question his best friend and his motivations.

"Tell me what?"

Will closed his eyes and reached up to take down the non-prescription glasses he wore as a cover up so as not to be recognized as Maxville's leading superhero. He hid them away and reopened his eyes, immediately taking on the commanding tone of his alter ego. "Actually, we're in need of some transportation. It's a highly confidential and rather dangerous mission. You, Ron Wilson bus driver, are the most talented pilot Sky High's ever had, making you the best man for the job."

By then Ron Wilson was hanging off of his every word. "I will do anything to help my fellow supers, just name it!"

"We need you to take us to _Ground Zero_."

The high school bus driver may be a man with no powers of his own, but what he lacked in ability, he more than made up for in courage. He had proven himself all those years ago in the battle of Sky High, the brawl between the supervillain Royal Pain and the super students- whom stood before him now- demonstrating that he _could_ be useful. And now he had been summoned again, this time to commute them into the worst possible location ever, underground, into the holding facility built to imprison the nastiest and most villainous of all villains ever to roam the earth.

_Ground Zero. _He couldn't suppress a shudder at the thought. No one in their right mind would travel into that dark and fortified place, guarded by black clothed mercenary supers and veteran citizen jailors. It was too deep underground, too cold, and impossible to reach without the right connections and proper directions to journey through it's labyrinth of tunnels.

It had an unbeatable track record. The very few villains that had managed to escape never reached the surface. They were either hunted down by the elite guards or lost forever within the numerous rock channels.

Getting in was easy compared to getting out again.

_Why in the world would they want to go down there_? Ron Wilson was silent, managing over his rather worrying thoughts.

Will immediately noticed this. "Zach managed to find a way to get inside the facility, but not a way to get there. You were my first choice and the right one. I know you can get us there, Ron."

"Have you been there before?"

Ron Wilson, startled, looked over to the dark man who had not spoken until then and shook his head. "I'm a bus driver for high schoolers, not a conveyer of convicts." He paused for a moment, lowering his eyes, before raising them up again and snapping his fingers together, "Of course! Crooked!"

"Crooked? What's crooked?" Zach asked, looking around in bewilderment. "I don't see anything?"

The driver shook his head, smiling largely, "No, not crooked. Crooked! Come, everyone to the bus!" He proceeded to climb aboard, taking his usual residence in the driver's seat and promptly began to play with an old-fashioned radio built into the bus' frame, much like those found in loading trucks.

The three friends looked between themselves, wondering if the bus driver had suddenly lost his marbles, before shrugging and also climbing inside the yellow school bus. The doors closed behind them, startling Zach who was the last one in. The three took seats near the front, Will and Warren sitting right behind Ron and Zach sitting on the one across from theirs.

Will, having sat nearest to the aisle, leaned over until he was shadowing the older man, "What exactly are you doing?"

The driver was busily turning knobs on his radio, the crackling of the changing frequencies growing faint or louder. He finally settled on one station, taking the mouthpiece into his hand and pressing down on the button by its side. He talked into it like one would talk into a walkie talkie. "-This is Zigzag, over. Come in, Crooked."

Nothing but static was heard. Ron tried again and again. "-This is Zigzag, over. Come in, Crooked. Crooked, do you copy?"

He waited a moment, his three passengers just as nervous as he. When no answer came, he called into the radio once more.

A sudden and broken voice answered. "-This is Crooked, over. What the hell do you want, Zigzag? I was in the middle of my soap opera-"

"-No time, Crooked. I need directions into _Ground Zero_."

"-_Ground Zero_, eh?" the static-stricken voice sounded quite amused. "-Pinpoint these exact locations into your Scoper: 148, -47 and 335. And heavens above, try not to get killed!"

Ignoring the voice, Ron slid open a panel by the steering wheel. Pulling out what appeared to be an advanced GPS system, he began punching in the codes into a faded number pad, watching as the green screen blinked when each coordinate was plugged in. In no time, it locked on and a female, robotic voice spoke. "Travel northwest one hundred forty-eight miles-"

"-Zigzag? Ronald? Answer me when I'm talking to you, young man!"

"-Mother, you're embarrassing me in front of my passengers," he hissed into the mouthpiece, his ears turning an unseemly red. "-I'm on a very important mission-"

"-My boy, always the adventurer. Make sure to take extra thick socks with you down there, it gets downright cold-"

"-Gotta go, Crooked. Love you, bye!"

"-Now wait just a second-" the voice was cut off when Ron shut off the radio. His ears still burned from his embarrassment. He chuckled uneasily, "Mothers."

"Crooked? Zigzag? What kind of codenames are those?" Zach asked perplexed, though he was amused by the conversation the bus driver had had with his mother.

"Like you would've thought of something better, glowworm."

"I could of! I'm not that terrible." At the inscrutable stares he received, he defended, "I'm not!"

"Well, we've got a location. Sit tight fellas, we're flying," Ron Wilson warned before starting up the bus once more and preparing for flight mode. "And those who have queasy stomachs should probably get out now. We're going to be flying underground after all." At that, the red seatbelts emerged from the seats and crisscrossed across their chests, pushing them further into the old, brown leather. The bus roared to life and after a few minutes of driving on land, the bus was in the air and flying at surprising speed through the skies.

They all stayed relatively quiet, only the hum of the engine and the wind outside could be heard amongst them. Very soon, once they had been traveling outside Maxville, the female voice spoke again, signaling that they were arriving within their target.

They had traveled over one hundred miles in less than twenty minutes.

"Stop and turn vehicle at a complete vertical incline and travel forty-seven feet below-"

"Vertical incline? Forty-seven feet below? Does that _thing_ want us to crash into the ground from all the way up here!"

The bus driver smiled and touched his cap, "Never fear with Ron Wilson near. You'll live yet." He went about driving the large yellow contraption so that it was now completely perpendicular to the ground and hovering a good fifty feet above it. The three supers were now staring right down into the earth, the ground solid with no opening for them to drive into. They _were_ going to crash!

"Hey Zigzag, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Warren asked, bracing his hands before him. His weight was pushing his torso further into the seatbelts, the rough material cutting into his skin which was still a little sensitive from the scars, though they had closed over fairly quickly.

"Not really, but one should never doubt the Scoper! It knows everything."

"And how do you figure that?" Will asked.

"Yeah, yeah! It's just a piece of metal! It can't always be right!" Zach cried out, the wind pushing at the standstill bus and the feeling of being completely vertical worse than any roller coaster drop.

"This is not _just _a piece of metal. It's the legendary artifact Red Ranger used for years to track down mobsters and their hideouts. This little thing here has been in my family since before I was born."

And Will understood. His own father had the Secret Sanctum, filled with gadgets and prizes taken from their victories against opposing villains. A room dedicated to the Stronghold's stolen and earned souvenirs.

"Alright Ron, let's go."

"Bro, you can't be serious! We're going to drop and pummel into the ground, like a sack of potatoes!" Zach argued his knuckles stretched thin and pale as he clutched the seatbelts at his chest. "I think I'm gonna to be sick."

Warren couldn't argue to that. He himself was questioning how they were going to get past the fact that directly below them was nothing but layers of dirt and rock. There was no opening, no way to get in. He didn't like the idea of dying because of something as foolish as trying to dig their way into the earth by driving right into it.

They remained suspended in air for a few more excruciating moments.

Pushing down at his hat with determination, Ron Wilson's foot released the break petal and slammed into the gas. The old bus groaned and rushed forward, nearing the ground at an alarming rate.

_At least if we're going to crash no one is around to get hurt in the explosion_, an errant thought crossed the pyro's mind before he could curb it.

Closer and closer they fell until they could each make out the individual blades of grass and their spidery green veins. Zach closed his eyes, not wanting to look, while the other three men kept theirs open, unable to look away.

And just when the bus' bumper was about to graze the ground violently, the earth opened and swallowed them in darkness.

Ron was the quickest to react and turned on the white headlights, slowing down the bus and driving through what looked like a man-made tunnel. There were grooves dug into the rock in cohesion, making him rather dizzy as he drove forward and looked at them. It felt like an optical illusion, swirling around and making them think that there was no beginning and no end to this place.

The bus driver tore his eyes away and kept them fixed in front of him, driving carefully through the rather cavernous tunnel.

"Are we alive?" Zach asked, his eyes still tightly shut.

"I'll say," Will sighed, closing his own eyes for a moment. "Looks like it was all a good trick, the rock was supposed to open as a doorway this whole time to allow entrance into the tunnels."

Zach opened his eyes at last and looked around in confusion at the dark and desolate place. They were traveling further into the earth and their ears popped because of the sudden pressure. His ears were still ringing, but he pushed his discomfort away and powered up, glowing his fluorescent yellow-green to better provide light for his friends in the dark.

"I always knew you were good for something."

"Likewise, Hothead."

"I think we're nearing the mile mark," Ron said, turning to the green screen of the Scoper. Their current position was blinking as they traveled, while the larger dot that remained idle gave away the true location of _Ground Zero_. They weren't hoping to run into anyone on their way there, since the caverns were numerous and vast between here and the actual prison.

The tunnel seemed to grow wider and eventually curved, finally allowing them to be parallel to the ground once again. Ron easily righted the bus and they all breathed easier as the pressure against their chests alleviated somewhat. The ground must be charmed to allow them to remain alive at such depth below the earth.

"Continue traveling for three hundred and thirty-five miles southwest-"

"That thing has such a creepy voice, even more down here," Zach shivered, the cool atmosphere below the earth chilling them all except for maybe the pyro.

Warren did not dare use his own power for fear of what it might cost and his friends seemed to understand this and didn't voice their discomfort at the sudden drop in temperature.

Lizards and other reptilian creatures christened the tunnels their home, scuttling away as the bus drove past and screeching cries filled the enclosed space, the cries coming from blind bats hiding from the sudden brightness interrupting their nocturnal rest.

"Definitely creepy," Zach murmured, his large blue eyes looking all around him and his breath hitching every now and then when a weird noise reached him. He glowed a little brighter, as if attempting to fend off all that was dark and nightmarish within that cold place. "I'm starting to feel a bit sorry for the villains sent here. It's horrible."

"Don't," Warren's gruff voice commanded, "Don't feel sorry for them. If there is one thing I learned is that we all have choices and they made theirs."

Will found this quite humorous, "This coming from the guy who hated me because my old man locked up his years ago."

"Shut up," he mumbled, though his lips were threatening to turn up in a small smile.

They continued traveling slowly for almost an hour, the tunnel remaining very direct before them. There were several entrances into _Ground Zero_, but most cut off into dead ends or continued in various tunnels and someone who did not know how to travel them would easily get lost. The whole purpose of such a complex network was to keep people _out_ and to keep their prisoners _in_. It was ingenious.

If not rather inhumane; forcing them underground to live in the shadow and cold for the duration of their sentence, away from everything that was good and whole above them.

Eventually, they broke through the labyrinth and all four men stared in astonishment. _Ground Zero_ was a holding facility created from the rock around them. It was center in a vast crater that dipped off at its edges, allowing for only flying vehicles to move in and out of the prison grounds. It was closed off by a towering stone wall, also made of the same material as the rest of the medieval architecture. The place looked more like a fortress than a modern prison.

Bright massive lights surrounded the building and immediately one glared right up at them.

"Are you sure they aren't going to shoot at us, glowworm?"

The man abruptly stopped glowing and gulped loudly, "I sure hope not! Larry and I had a deal!"

"I'll just land where they can see us. If they knew we were coming, then I don't think they'll shoot. Just be as submissive as possible that always works," Ron suggested, flying the yellow school bus closer to the jail and landing it expertly just outside the stone wall's massive gateway.

The black iron gate, the only thing not made of stone, was already opened and men dressed in black clothes were already surrounding them. None stood out from the other, their purpose to be pack-like and homogeneous; a colony of finely seasoned mercenaries.

They were ordered to step outside and Ron opened the doors and exited first, his hands up in surrender. The other three followed after, each were taken and frisked for weapons.

One among the Dobermans stepped forth, "We had been warned of your arrival, however, we distrust all who come willingly here. State your purpose."

Will, designating himself the group leader, stepped forward and stared the man down, "Is this any way to treat a fellow superhero of Maxville, jailor? Should I speak to your superior about your lack of manners?"

Murmurs of outrage were heard amongst the men, but the one facing Will silenced them with a wave of his hand. "So, you believe that by coming here with an invitation you would not be subjected to our predisposition? We must secure every person entering and leaving this prison. It is our duty, superhero. No one would question our right."

Will smiled easily, the grin a little impish, "I'm just wondering why you treat us like common thieves, men, not that you aren't doing your jobs thoroughly. But where are my _manners_, allow me to perform the introductions. This here's our driver, Ron Wilson. My fellow supers, Zachary Braun and Warren Peace.

"And I'm William Stronghold, or better known by my alias as Silver Wing."

_That_ sure got their attention.

~/\\~

Inmate 32719 was just minding his own business (well…_eavesdropping_ really) when he caught wind of some rather interesting news; one of the most exciting to ever grace this underground simulation of hell in quite a few years.

Apparently they had company over. And not just any company either, but superhero company.

_Wonder which do-gooder decided to drop by_, Freddie Stockholm contemplated as he maneuvered expertly through the prisoners meandering about in the open courtyard. Though his powers were indeed suppressed by the jail's atmosphere, he was still quicker than any man here and easily escaped the throng with barely any notice. His swiftness came in handy especially when he was trying to be sneaky.

When he reached the far corner of the enclosed space he caught sight of his cellmate sitting silently on the metal benches, his fingers joined together under his chin as his eyes roamed the space before him in supreme boredom. With twenty years under his belt, Freddie imagined he had a right to be.

"Hey, Big Shot!" he called out, waving as he approached the older man.

Inmate 29573 regarded the younger man briefly before returning to his mundane observations. When the fool was within hearing distance, he proceeded to enlighten his cellmate on his thoughts, "It appears that we may have visitors today, Fredrick. I noticed that there are exactly four Dobermans missing from their posts this afternoon."

"Huh?" the younger man said, looking around the area for the black clothed wardens but seeing none in sight. He wondered if the old man was already going senile before remembering what he had come over to tell him in the first place. "Oh yeah! I was just gonna tell ya, Big Shot! The others were talking- ya know how they like to talk- there's a hero sightseeing the jail and from the looks of it, he's not liked very much by the others."

His cellmate, outwardly, remained passive, as if the news mattered very little to him, but inwardly, he was running through thousands of possibilities and one kept nagging at him. He was never one to doubt his instincts.

"Do you know who it is, Fredrick?"

Freddie loathed being called by his full, given name, but the older man did as he pleased and no one could order him otherwise, so he took it like a man and answered his suddenly chatter-box cellmate, "Nope, though I'm pretty sure it's not the bitch that locked me up. Frigid and stuck-up, but sexy as hell and word would've gotten around about a woman like _her_ coming here for a visit. The men would have been talking in minutes, even the guards would have noticed, and that's saying something! They're like robots! Even your kid had a thing for her when we went to school together-"

_Oh shit, he shouldn't have said that! _

"-ah, yeah, well…doesn't the sky look nice today?" He gulped when the older man barely flinched, never a good sign.

"There is no sky, fool."

"Hehe guess you're right, Big Shot, but the rock is pretty cool and sometimes it has different colors and when you look_ really_ hard you can see some tree roots and-"

"Cease you ramblings, idiot. You are giving me a headache."

"Sure thing, Big Shot. You won't hear another word from me, no sir, not another peep from this idiot, no way, Jose! I'll keep real quiet like-"

He would have silenced the blundering moron himself, but at that moment, one of the elite had successfully taken him by surprise and appeared in his peripheral vision. Turning his head, he caught the man's eye and waited for him to speak, disliking having been caught off guard by anyone, much less by this gangly and awkward jailor.

His obnoxious orange hair wasn't helping matters either.

"Battle, you have a visitor. Come with me," Larry (codename Golem) ordered, his weak and scrawny appearance a ruse intentionally fashioned so he could be deliberately overlooked as unthreatening. The Doberman was actually one of the very best wardens at _Ground Zero_, his particular ability to transform into a twelve-foot tall humanoid rock was ideal for being underground. He could travel through the tunnels without transport and patrol areas where others could not.

He alone actually _enjoyed_ staying beneath the earth.

Not liking the boy's tone of voice, or his superior attitude, he was tempted to show him how to properly respect his betters, but the fact that the Doberman had been pulled away from his duties to seek him out, specifically, left something to question.

Baron Battle did _not_ have visitors.

Ever.

~/\\~

Author's Note:

And now only one chapter away! Warren and Baron Battle will formerly talk in the next one.

Pink Ladies jackets from the movie Grease. Thought it would be funny to incorporate Ron Wilson's elderly superhero mother and her gang of bowling girls (Team name: The Daisy Pushers).

Yes, Freddie Stockholm is Speed. Where is Lash you ask? You'll find out! And Speed was purposefully imitating Baron Battle's description of _Ground Zero_ as the 'underground simulation of hell'.

You know, I was wondering why Sky High allows the student's identities to be known by everyone. If you think about it, the school is designed for training the future heroes and hero supports that will later protect the city, but what about the students who later become villains? They will have all the information they could ever want on their enemies, their names and the full scope of their powers, including weaknesses. Everyone knew that Will was the son of The Commander and Jetstream, making him an open target, literally. So wouldn't it have been smarter, for the children's safety, to go by an alias throughout their high school years, so that no one would know who they were? Protecting them from enemies and allowing them to remain anonymous? Just a thought, you're welcome to discuss it with me if you think I'm missing something or if I'm completely mad and don't know what the heck I'm talking about.

As always, thank you all for reading and reviewing!


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